l*-« 


>>^. 


^ni.LiA^a:  PAi^i^nTB.B 


THE 


PRINCIPLES 


OE" 


MORAL  AND  POLITICAL 


PHILOSOPHY, 


»  BY  WILLIAM  PALEY,  D.  D. 

"    SUBDEAN    OF    LINCOLN,    PREBENDARY    OF    ST.    PAUl's,    ANI) 
RECTOR    OF    BISHOP-WEARMOUTH. 


ELEVENTH  AMERICAN  EDITION. 


BOSTON  : 
PUBLISHED  BY  RICHARDSON  AND  LORD, 

1825. 


TO    THE 

RIGHT  REVEREND 

EBMUJ^D  LJiW,   n.D, 

LORD  BISHOP  OF  CARLISLE. 


My  Lord, 

HAD  the  obligations  wliich  I  owe  to  youi 
Lordship's  kindness  been  much  less,  or  much  fewer 
than  they  are ;  had  personal  gratitude  left  any  place 
in  my  mind  for  deliberation  or  for  inquiry ;  in  se- 
lecting a  name  which  every  reader  might  confess  to 
be  prefixed  with  propriety  to  a  work,  that,  in  many 
of  its  parts,  bears  no  obscure  relation  to  the  general 
principles  of  nature  and  revealed  religion,  I  should 
have  found  myself  directed  by  many  considerations 
to  that  of  the  Bishop  of  Carlisle.  A  long  life  spent 
in  the  most  interesting  of  all  human  pursuits, — the 
investigation  of  moral  and  religious  truth, — in  con- 
stant and  unwearied  endeavours  to  advance  the  dis- 
covery, communication,  and  success  of  both ;  a  life 
so  occupied,  and  arrived  at  that  period  which  ren- 
ders every  life  venerable,  commands  respect  by  a 
title  which  no  virtuous  mind  will  dispute,  which  no 
mind  sensible  of  the  importance  of  these  studies  td 
the  supreme  concernments  of  mankind  will  not  re- 


iv  DEDICATION. 

joice  to  sec  acktiowledged.  Whatever  difference, 
or  whatever  opposition,  some  who  peruse  your  Lord- 
ship's writings  may  perceive  between  your  conclu- 
sions a4ul  their  own,  the  good  and  wise  of  all  per- 
suasions will  revere  that  industry,  which  has  for 
its  object  the  illustration  or  defence  of  our  common 
Christianity.  Your  Lordship's  researches  have 
never  lost  sight  of  one  purpose,  namely,  to  recover 
the  simplicity  of  the  Gospel  from  beneath  that  load 
of  unauthorized  additions,  which  the  ignorance  of 
some  ages,  and  the  learning  of  others,  the  supersti- 
tion of  weak,  and  the  craft  of  designing  men,  have 
(unhappily  for  its  interest)  heaped  upon  it.  x\nd 
this  purpose,  I  am  convinced,  was  dictated  by  the 
purest  motive;  by  a'firm,  and,  I  think,  a  just  opin- 
ion, that  whatever  renders  religion  more  rational, 
renders  it  more  credible ;  that  he  who,  by  a  dilligent 
and  faithful  examination  of  the  original  records,  dis- 
misses from  the  system  one  article  which  cmitradicts 
the  apprehension,  the  experience,  or  the  reasoning 
of  mankind,  does  more  towards  recommending  the 
belief,  and,  with  the  belief,  the  influence  of  Chris- 
tianity, to  the  understandings  and  consciences  of  sc- 
lious  inquiries,  and  through  them  to  universal  re- 
ception and  authority,  than  can  be  effected  by  a 
thousand  contenders  for  creeds  and  ordinances  of 
human  establishment. 

When  the  doctrine  of  Transubstantiatiou  had 
taken  possession  of  tiie  Christian  world,  it  was  not 
without  the  industry  of  learned  men  that  it  c^me  at 


t 


DEDICATION.  v 

length  to  be  discovered,  that  no  such  doctrine  was 
coiitained  in  the  New  Testament.  But  had  those 
excellent  persons  done  nothing  more  by  their  dis- 
covery, than  abolished  an  innocent  superstition,  or 
changed  some  directions  in  the  ceremonial  of  public 
worship,  they  had  merited  little  of  that  veneration, 
with  which  the  gratitude  of  Protestant  Churches  re- 
members their  services.  A¥hat  they  did  for  man- 
kind was  this :  they  exonerated  Christianity  of  a 
weight  which  sunk  it.  If  indolence  or  timidity  had 
checked  these  exertions,  or  suppressed  the  fruit  and 
publication  of  these  inquiries,  is  it  too  much  to  af- 
firm, that  infidelity  would  at  this  day  have  been 
universal  ? 

I  do  not  mean,  my  Lord,  by  the  mention  of  this 
example  to  insinuate,  that  any  popular  opinion 
which  your  Lordship  may  have  encountered,  ought 
to  be  compared  with  Transubstantiation,  or  that  the 
assurance  with  which  we  reject  that  extravagant  ab- 
surdity is  attainable  in  the  controversies  in  which 
your  Lordship  has  been  engaged ;  but  I  mean,  by 
calling  to  mind  those  great  reformers  of  the  public 
faith,  to  observe,  or  rather  to  express  my  own  per- 
suasion, that  to  restore  the  purity,  is  most  effectual- 
ly to  promote  the  progress  of  Christianity  and  that 
the  same  virtuous  motive  which  hath  sanctified  their 
labours,  suggested  yours.  At  a  time  when  some 
men  appear  not  to  perceive  any  good,  and  others  to 
suspect  an  evil  tendency,  in  tliat  spirit  of  examina- 
tion and  research  which  is  gone  forth  in  Christian 


VI  DEDICATION. 

countries,  this  testimony  is  become  due,  not  only  to 
the  probity  of  your  Lordship's  views,  but  to  the 
general  cause  of  intellectual  and  religious  liberty. 

That  your  Lordship's  life  may  be  prolonged  in 
health  and  honour;  that  it  may  afford  whilst  it  con- 
tinues an  instructive  proof,  how  serene  and  easy  old 
age  can  be  made  by  the  memory  of  important  and 
well-intended  labours,  by  tlie  possession  of  public 
and  deserved  esteem,  by  the  presence  of  many  grate- 
ful relatives ;  above  all,  by  the  resources  of  religion, 
by  an  unshaken  confidence  in  the  designs  of  a 
^'  faithful  Creator,"  and  a  settled  trust  in  the  truth 
and  in  the  promises  of  Christianity,  is  tlie  fervent 
prayer  of, 

My  Lord, 

Your  r^ordship's  dutiful, 
Most  obliged. 

And  most  devoted  servant, 
WILLIAM  PALKY. 

Carlisle,  Feb.   10,  1785. 


CONTENTS. 


Preface , H 


BOOK  I. 

PRELIMINARY  CONSIDERATIONS. 

Chap.     1.  Definition  and  use  of  the  Science 21 

2.  The  Law  of  Honour 22 

3.  The  Law  of  the  Land 23 

4.  The  Scriptures 24 

5.  The  Moral  Sense • 26 

6.  Human  Happiness ,, .  33 

7.  Virtue 45 


BOOK  n. 

MORAL  OBLIGATION. 
Chap.     1,  The  Question,  Why  anti  I  obliged  to  keep  my 

word  ?  considered 53 

2.  What  we  mean,  when  we  say  a  man  is  obliged 

to  do  a  thing 54 

3.  The  Question,  Why  am  I  obliged  to  keep  my 

word  ?  resumed 56 

4.  The  Will  of  God 68 

5.  The  Divine  Benevolence 60 

6.  Utility 62 

7.  The  Necessity  of  General  Rules 64 

8.  The  Considerations  of  General  Consequences 

pursued 67 

9.  Of  Right 70 

10.  The  Division  of  Rights It 

11.  The  General  Rights  of  Mankind     . 76 


CONTENTS. 


BOOK  III. 

RELATIVE  DUTIES. 

Part  I. — of  relative  duties  which  are  determinate. 

Page 
Chap.     1.  Of  Property S2 

2.  The  Use  of  the  Institution  of  Property     ....     83 

3.  The  History  of  Property 85 

4.  In  what  the  Right  of  Property  is  founded  ...     87 

5.  Promises 92 

6.  Contracts ,  ...   103 

7.  Contracts  of  Sale IO4 

8.  Contracts  of  Hazard     107 

9.  Contracts  of  Lending  of  Inconsumable  Property   109 

10.  Contracts  concerning  the  Lending  of  Money  .  .  Ill 

11.  Contracts  of  Labour — Service 115 

12.  Contracts  of  Labour — Commissions .119 

13.  Contracts  of  Labour — Partnership 121 

14.  Contracts  of  Labour — Offices 122 

15.  Lies     125 

16.  Oaths 129 

17.  Oath  in  Evidence 134 

18.  Oath  of  Allegiance 136 

19.  Oath  against  Bribery  in  the  Election  of  Mem- 

bers of  Parliament '.....  139 

20.  Oath  against  Simony 139 

21.  Oaths  to  observe  Local  Statutes 142 

22.  Subscription  to  Articles  of  Religion 143 

23.  Wills 145 


BOOK  III. 

Part  II. — of  relative  duties  which  are  indeterminate, 

AND  OF  the  crimes  OPPOSITE  TO  THESE. 

Chap.    1.  Charity 151 

2.  Charity — The  Treatment  of  our  Domestics  and 

Dependants 152 


CONTENTS,  ix 

Page. 

VaiaP.    3.  Slavery 153 

4.  Charity — Professional  Assistance 156 

6,.  Charity — Pecuniary  Bouhty 158 

6.  Resentment 167 

7.  Anger 167 

8.  Revenge 169 

9.  Duelling     173 

10.  Litigation 176 

11.  Gratitude 179 

12.  Slander 180 


BOOK  III. 

Part  HI.- — of  kelative  duties  which  result  from  the 

CONSTITUTION    OF    THE    SEXES,    AND    OF    THE    CRIMES    OPPOS- 
ED   TO    THESE. 

Chap.     1.  Of  the  public  Use  of  Marriage  Institutions  .  .       183 

2.  Fornication 184 

3.  Seduction 189 

4.  Adultery »   ....   192 

5.  Incest 196 

6.  Polygamy 197 

7.  Divorce 201 

8.  Marriage 208 

9.  Of  the  Duty  of  Parents 2'll 

10.  The  Rights  of  Parents     224 

11.  The  Duty  of  Children 226 


BOOK  IV. 

DUTIES  TO  OURSELVES,  AND  THE  CRIMES  OPPOSITE  TO 
THESE. 

Chap.     1.  The  Rights  of  Self-Defence 231 

2.  Drunkenness 234 

3.  Suicide 239 

2 


X  CONTENTS. 

BOOK  V. 

DUTIES  TOWARDS  GOD. 

Page. 
Chap.     1.  Division  of  these  Duties 246 

2.  Of  the  Duty  and  of  the  Efficacy  of  Prayer,  so  far 

as  the  sanae  appear  from  the  Light  of  Nature  247 

3.  Of  the  Duty  and  Efficacy  of  Prayer,  as  repre- 

sented in  Scripture     253 

4.  Of  Private  Prayer,  Family  Prayer,  and  Public 

Worship 256 

6.  Of  Forms  of  Prayer  in  Public  Worship   .  •  .  .  262 

6.  Of  the  Use  of  Sabbatical  Institutions 267 

7.  Of  the  Scripture  Account  of  Sabbatical  Institu- 

tions   270 

8.  By  what  Acts  and  Omissions  the  Duty  of  the 

Christian  Sabbath  is  violated 28 1 

'9.  Of  reverencing  the  Deity 284 


BOOK  VI. 

ELEMENTS  OF  POLITICAL  KNOWLEDGE. 

Chap.     1.  Of  the  Origin  of  Civil  Government 292 

3.  How  Subjection  to  Civil  Government  is  main- 
tained     296 

3.  The  Duty  of  Submission  to  Civil  Government 

explained 3D2 

4.  Of  the  Duty  of  Civil  Obedience,  as  stated  in  the 

Christian  Scriptures 314 

5.  Of  Civil  Liberty     321 

6v  Of  Different  Forms  of  Government 326 

7.  Of  the  British  Constitution 335 

8.  Of  the  Administration  of  Justice 360 

9.  Of  Crimes  and  Punishments 370 

10.  Of  Religious  Establishments,  and  of  Toleration  390 

11.  Of  Population  and  Provision;  and  of  Agricul- 

ture and  Commerce,  as  subservient  thereto  401 
12.0f  War,  and  of  Military  Establishments  .  ...  449 


PREFACE. 


IN  the  treatises  that  I  have  met  with  upon  the  subject  of  mor- 
ah,  I  appear  to  myself  to  have  remarked  the  following  imper- 
fections ; — either  that  the  principle  was  erroneous,  or  that  it  was 
indistinctly  explained,  or  that  the  rules  deduced  from  it  were  not 
sufficiently  adapted  to  real  life  and  to  actual  situations.  The 
writings  of  Grotius,  and  the  larger  work  of  PuffendorfF,  are  of  too 
forensic  a  cast,  too  much  mixed  up  with  the  civil  law  and  with  the 
jurisprudence  of  Germany,  to  answer  precisely  the  design  of  a 
system  of  ethics — the  direction  of  private  consciences  in  the  gener- 
al conduct  of  huma^n  life.  Perhaps,  indeed,  they  are  not  to  be  re- 
garded as  institutes  of  morality  calculated  to  instruct  an  individual 
in  his  duty,  so  much  a-s  a  species  of  law  books  and  law  authorities, 
suited  to  the  practice  of  those  courts  of  justice,  whose  decisions 
are  regulated  by  general  principles  of  natural  equity,  in  <fon- 
junction  with  the  maxims  of  the  Roman  code  ;  of  which  kind,  T 
understand,  there  are  many  upon  the  Continent.  To  which  may 
be  added,  concerning  both  these  authors,  that  they  are  more  oc« 
cupied  in  describing  the  rights  and  usages  of  independent  com- 
munities, than  is  necessary  in  a  work  which  professes  not  to  ad- 
just the  correspondence  of  nations,  but  to  delineate  the  offices  of 
domestic  life.  The  profusion  also  of  classical  quotations  with 
which  many  of  their  pages  abound,  seems  to  me  a  fault  from 
which  it  will  not  be  easy  to  excuse  them.  If  these  extracts  be 
intended  as  decorations  of  style,  the  composition  is  overloaded 
with  ornaments  of  one  kind.  To  any  thing  more  than  ornament 
they  can  make  no  claim.  To  propose  them  as  serious  argu- 
ments ;  gravely  to  attempt  to  establish  or  fortify  a  moral  dut^ 


xii  PREFACt:. 

by  the  testimony  of  a  Greek  or  Roman  poet,  is  to  trifle  with  the 
attention  of  the  reader,  or  rather  to  take  it  off  from  all  just  prin 
ciples  of  reasoning  in  morals. 

Of  GUI'  own  writers  in  this  branch  of  philosophy,  I  find  iiont 
that  I  think  perfectly  free  from  the  three  objections  which  I  have 
stated.  There  is  likewise  a  fourth  property  observable  in  al- 
most all  of  them,  namely,  that  they  divide  too  much  the  law  of 
Nature  from  the  precepts  of  Revelation  ;  some  authors  industri- 
ously declining  the  mention  of  Scripture  authorities,  as  belong- 
ing to  a  different  province  ;  and  others  reserving  them  for  a  sep- 
erate  volume  :  which  appears  to  me  much  the  same  defect,  as  if 
a  commentator  on  the  laws  of  England  should  content  himsclt 
with  stating' upon  each  head  tlie  jcommon  law  of  the  land,  with- 
out taking  any  notice  of  acts  of  parliament ;  or  should  choose  to 
give  his  readers  the  common  law  in  one  book,  and  the  statute 
law  ill  another.  "When  the  obligations  of  morality  are  taught," 
says  a  pious  and  celebrated  writer,  "let  the  sanctions  of  Chris- 
"  tianity  never  be  forgotten  :  by  which  it  will  be  shewn  that 
*'  they  give  strength  and  lustre  to  each  other  :  religion  will  ap- 
"  pear  to  be  the  voice  of  reason,  and  morality  tlie  will  of 
«  God."* 

The  manner  also  in  which  modern  writers  l.iavc  treated  of 
subjects  of  morality,  is,  in  my  judgment,  liable  to  much  ex- 
ceptioji.  It  has  become  of  late  a  fashion  to  deliver  moral  insti- 
tutes in  strings  or  aeries  of  detached  propositions,  without  sub- 
joining a  continued  argument  or  regular  dissertation  to  any  of 
them.  This  sententious  apophthegmati/.ing  style,  by  crowding 
propositions  and  paragraphs  too  fast  upon  the  mind,  and  by  car- 
rying the  eye  of  the  reader  from  subject  to  subject  in  too  quick 
a  succession,  gains  not  a  sufficient  hold  upon  the  attention,  to 
ieave  either  the  memory  furnished,  or  the  understanding  satisfi- 
fid.  However  useful  a  syllabus  of  topics  or  a  series  of  proposi- 
Hotts  may  be  in  the  hands  of  a  lecturer,  or  as  a  guide  to  a  stu^ 

^  PrcfeiM  to  "  The  Preceptor,"  bj  Dr,  Johcjci 


PREFACE. 


xm 


dent,  wlio  is  supposed  to  consult  other  books,  or  to  institute  upon 
each  subject  researches  of  his  own,  the  method  is  by  no  means 
convenient  tor  ordinary  readers  ;  because  few  readers  are  such 
thinkers  as  to  want  only  a  hint  to  set  their  thoughts  at  work  up- 
on ;  or  such  as  will  pause  and  tarry  at  every  proposition,  till  they 
have  traced  out  its  dependency,  proof,  relation,  and  consequen- 
ces ;  before  they  permit  themselves  to  step  on  to  another.  A  re- 
spectable writer  of  this  class*  has  comprised  his  doctrine  of  sla- 
very in  the  three  following  propositions  : — 

"  No  one  is  born  a  slave  ;  because  every  one  is  born  with  all 
"  his  original  rights." 

"  No  one  can  become  a  slave  :  because  no  one  from  beinor  a 
"  person  can,  in  the  language  of  tlie  Roman  law,  become  a  thing, 
"  or  subject  of  property." 

"  The  supposed  property  of  the  master  in  the  sRve,  therefore, 
is  matter  of  usurpation,  not  of  right." 

It  may  be  possible  to  deduce  from  these  few  adages  such  a  the- 
ory of  the  primitive  rights  of  human  nature,  as  will  evince  the 
illegality  of  slavery  ;  but  surely  an  author  requires  too  much  of 
his  reader,  when  he  expects  him  to  make  these  deductions  for 
himself;  or  to  supply,  perhaps  from  some  remote  chapter  of  the 
same  treatise,  the  several  proofs  and  explanations  which  are 
necessary  to  render  the  meaning  and  truth  of  these  assertions  in-^ 
(elligible. 

There  is  a  fault,  the  opposite  of  this,  which  some  moralists 
who  have  adopted  a  different,  and  I  think  a  better  plan  of  com- 
position have  not  always  been  careful  to  avoid  ;  namely,  the 
dwelling  upon  verbal  and  elementary  distinctions  with  a  labour 
and  prolixity  proportioned  much  more  to  the  subtlety  of  the 
question,  than  to  its  value  and  importance  in  the  prosecution  of 
the  subject.  A  writer  upon  the  law  of  nature,!  whose  explica- 
tions in  every  part  of  philosophy,  though  alwa^'s  diffuse,  are  of- 

*  Dr.  Ferguson,  autlior  of  "  Institutes  of  Moral  Philosophy,"  1767. 
+  Dr,  Rutherforth,  author  of  "Institutes  of  Natural  Law.'' 


xiv  PREFACE. 

ten  very  successful,  has  employed  three  long  sections  in  endeav- 
ouring to  prove  that  "  permissions  are  not  laws."  The  discus- 
sion of  this  controversy,  however  essential  it  might  he  to  dialectic 
precision,  was  certainly  not  necessary  to  the  progress  of  a  work 
designed  to  describe  the  duties  and  obligations  of  civil  life. 
The  reader  becomes  impatient  when  he  is  detained  by  disquisi- 
tions which  have  no  other  object  than  the  settling  of  terms  and 
pjirases  ;  and,  what  is  worse,  they  for  whose  use  such  books  are 
chiefly  intended,  will  not  be  persuaded  to  read  them  at  all. 

I  am  led  to  propose  these  strictures  not  by  any  propensity  to 
depreciate  the  labours  of  my  predecessors,  much  less  to  invite 
a  comparisoY)  between  the  merits  of  their  performances  and  my 
own  ;  but  solely  by  the  consideration,  that  when  a  writer  offers 
a  book  to  the  public,  upon  a  subject  on  which  the  public  are  al- 
ready in  possession  of  many  others,  he  is  bound  by  a  kind  of 
literary  justice  to  inform  his  readers,  distinctly  and  specifically, 
what  it  is  he  professes  to  supply,  and  what  he  expects  to  im- 
prove. The  imperfections  above  enumerated,  are  those  which 
I  have  endeavoured  to  avoid  or  remedy.  Of  the  execution  the 
reader  must  judge  :  but  this  was  the  design. 

Concerning  the  principle  of  morals  it  would  be  premature  to 
spfeak  ;  but  concerning  the  manner  of  unfolding  and  explaining 
that  principle,  I  have  somewhat  which  I  wish  to  be  remarked. 
An  experience  of  nine  years  in  the  office  of  a  public  tutor  in  one 
of  the  universities,  and  in  that  department  of  education  to  which 
these  chapters  relate,  afforded  me  frequent  occasion  to  observe, 
that  in  discoursing  to  young  minds  upon  topics  of  morality,  it 
required  much  more  pains  to  make  them  perceive  the  difficulty, 
than  to  understand  the  solution  ;  that,  unless  the  subject  was  so 
drawn  up  to  a  point,  as  to  exhibit  the  fidl  force  of  an  objection, 
or  the  exact  place  of  a  doubt,  before  any  explanation  was  enter- 
ed upon  ; — in  other  words,  unless  some  curiosity  was  excited 
before  it  was  attempted  to  be  satisfied,  the  labour  of  the  teacher 
was  lost.  When  information  was  not  desired,  it  was  seldom,  I 
found,  retained.     I  have  made  this  observation  my  guide  in  the 


PREFACE.  xr 

following  work  :  that  is,  upon  each  occasion  I  have  endeavour- 
ed, before  I  suffered  myself  to  proceed  in  the  disquisition,  to 
put  the  reader  in  complete  possession  of  the  question  ;  and  to  do 
it  in  the  way  that  I  thought  most  likely  to  stir  up  his  own  doubts 
and  solicitude  about  it. 

In  pursuing  the  principle  of  morals  through  the  detail  of  cases 
to  which  it  is  applicable,  I  have  had  in  view  to  accommodate 
both  the  choice  of  the  subjects,  and  the  manner  of  handling  them, 
to  the  situations  which  arise  in  the  life  of  an  inhabitant  of  this 
country  in  these  times.  This  is  the  thing  that  I  think  to  be  prin- 
cipally wanting  in  former  treatises  ;  and  perhaps  the  chief  ad- 
vantage which  will  be  found  in  mine.  I  have  examined  no  doubts, 
1  have  discussed  no  obscurities,  I  have  encountered  no  errors,  I 
have  adverted  to  no  controversies,  but  what  I  have  seen  actually 
to  exist.  If  some  of  the  questions  treated  of  appear  to  a  more 
instructed  reader  minute  or  puerile,  I  desire  such  reader  to  be 
assured  that  I  have  found  them  occasions  of  difficulty  to  young- 
minds  ;  and  what  I  have  observed  in  young  minds,  I  should  ex- 
pect to  meet  with  in  all  who  approach  these  subjects  for  the  first 
time.  Upon  each  article  of  human  duty  I  have  combined  with 
the  conclusions  of  reason  the  declarations  of  Scripture,  when  they 
are  to  be  had,  as  of  co-ordinate  authority,  and  as  both  terminat- 
ing in  the  same  sanctions. 

In  the  manner  of  the  work,  I  have  endeavoured  so  to  attemper 
the  opposite  plans  above  animadverted  upon,  as  that  the  reader 
may  not  accuse  me  either  of  too  much  haste  or  too  much  delay. 
1  have  bestowed  upon  each  subject  enough  of  dissertation  to  give 
a  body  and  substance  to  the  chapter  in  which  it  is  treated  of,  as 
well  as  coherence  and  perspicuity  ;  on  the  other  hand,  I  have 
seldom,  I  hope,  exercised  the  patience  of  the  reader  by  the 
length  and  prolixity  of  my  essays,  or  disappointed  that  pa- 
tience at  last  by  the  tenuity  and  unimportance  of  the  conclu- 
sion. 

There  are  two  particulars  in  the  following  work,  for  which  it 
may  be  thought  necessary  that  1  should  offer  some  excuse.     The 


xvi  frj:face. 

first  of  uhich  is,  that  I  have  scarcely  ever  referred  to  any  olhtr 
book,  or  mentioned  the  name  of  the  author  whose  thoughts,  and 
sometimes,  possibly,  whose  very  expressions  I  have  adopted. 
My  method  of  writing  has  constantly  been  this  ;  to  extract  what 
I  could  from  my  own  stores  and  my  own  reflections  in  the  first 
place  ;  to  put  down  that,  and  afterwards  to  consult  upon  each 
subject  such  readings  as  fell  in  my  way  :  which  order  I  am  con- 
vinced, is  the  only  one  whereby  any  person  can  keep  his  thoughts 
from  sliding  into  other  men's  trains.  The  effect  of  such  a  plan 
upon  the  production  itself  will  be,  that,  whilst  some  parts  in 
matter  or  manner  may  be  new,  others  will  be  little  else  than  a 
repetition  of  the  old.  1  make  no  pretensions  to  perfect  origin- 
ality :  1  claim  to  be  something  more  than  a  mere  compiler. 
Much,  no  doubt,  is  borrowed  ;  but  the  fact  is,  that  the  notes  for 
this  work  having  been  prepared  for  some  years,  and  such  things 
having  been  from  time  to  time  inserted  in  them  as  appeared  to 
me  worth  preserving,  and  such  insertions  made  commonly  with- 
out the  name  of  the  author  from  whom  they  w^ere  taken,  I  should, 
at  this  time,  have  found  a  difficulty  in  recovering  these  names 
with  sufficient  exactness  to  be  able  to  render  to  every  man  his 
own.  Nor,  to  speak  the  truth,  did  it  appear  to  me  worth  while 
to  repeat  the  search  merely  for  this  purpose.  When  authorities 
are  relied  upon,  names  must  be  produced:  when  a  discovery  has 
been  made  in  science,  it  may  be  unjust  to  borrow  the  invention 
without  acknowledging  the  author.  But  in  an  argumentative 
treatise,  and  upon  a  subject  which  allows  no  place  for  discovery 
or  invention,  properly  so  called  ;  and  in  which  all  that  can  be- 
long to  a  writer  is  his  mode  of  reasoning  or  his  judgment  of 
probabilities  ;  I  should  have  thought  it  superfluous,  had  it  been 
easier  toTne  than  it  was,  to  have  interrupted  my  text,  or  crowd- 
ed my  margin  with  references  to  every  author  whose  sentiments 
I  have  made  use  of.  There  is,  however,  one  work  to  which  I 
owe  so  much,  that  it  would  be  ungrateful  not  to  confess  the  ob- 
ligation :  I  mean  the  writings  of  the  late  Abraham  Tucker,  Esq. 
part  of  which  were  published  hy  himself,  and  the  remainder 


tJlEFACE. 


XVU 


since  his  death,  under  the  title  of  "  The  light  of  Nature  pursued, 
"  by  Edward  Search.  Esq."  I  have  found  in  this  writer  more 
original  thinking  and  observation  upon  the  several  subjects  that 
he  has  taken  in  hand,  than  in  any  other,  not  to  say,  than  in  all 
others  put  together.  His  talent  also  for  illustration  is  unrivalled. 
But  his  thoughts  are  diffused  through  a  long,  various,  and  ir- 
regular work.  I  shall  account  it  no  mean  praise,  if  1  have  been 
sometimes  able  to  dispose  into  method,  to  collect  into  heads  and 
articles,  or  to  exhibit  in  more  compact  and  tangible  masses, 
what,  in  that  otherwise  excellent  performance,  is  spread  over 
too  much  surface. 

The  next  circumstance  for  which  some  apology  may  be  ex- 
pected, is  the  joining  of  moral  and  political  philosopliy  together, 
or  the  addition  of  a  book  of  politics  to  a  system  of  ethics.  Against 
this  objection,  if  it  be  made  one,  I  might  defend  mj'self  by  the 
example  of  many  approved  writers,  who  have  treated  de  officiisr 
hominis  et  civis,  or,  as  some  choose  to  express  it,  ''  of  the  rights 
"  and  obligations  of  man,  in  his  individual  and  social  capacity," 
in  the  same  book.  I  might  allege,  also,  that  the  part  a  member 
of  the  commonwealth  shall  take  in  political  contentions,  the  vote 
he  shall  give,  the  counsels  he  shall  approve,  the  support  he  shall 
afford,  or  the  opposition  he  shall  make,  to  any  system  of  public 
measures, — is  as  much  a  question  of  personal  duty,  as  much  con- 
cei'ns  the  conscience  of  the  individual  who  deliberates,  as  the 
determination  of  any  doubt  which  relates  to  the  conduct  of  pri- 
vate life  ;  that  consequently  po^'ftical  philosophy  is,  properly 
speaking,  a  continuation  of  moral  philosophy  ;  or  rather  indeed, 
a  part  of  it,  supposing  moral  philosophy  to  have  for  its  aim  the 
information  of  the  human  conscience  in  every  deliberation  that 
is  likely  to  come  before  it.  1  might  avail  myself  of  these  ex- 
cuses if  I  wanted  them  ;  but  the  vindication  upon  v, hich  I  rely  is 
the  following.  In  stating  the  principles  of  morals,  the  reader 
will  observe  that  1  have  employed  sotc  industry  in  explaining 
the  theory,  and  showing  the  necessity  o( general  rules  ;  without 
the  full  and  constant  consideration  cf  which,  I  am  persuaded  thut 
3 


ivin  PREFACE. 

ao  system  of  moral  philosophy  can  be  satisfactory  or  consistent. 
This  foundation  being  laid,  or  rather  this  habit  being  formed, 
the  discussion  of  political  subjects,  to  which,  more  than  to  almost 
any  other,  general  rules  are  applicable,  became  clear  and  easy. 
Whereas,  bad  these  topics  been  assigned  to  a  distinct  work,  it 
would  have  been  necessary  to  have  repeated  the  same  rudi- 
ments, to  have  established  over  again  the  same  principles,  as 
those  which  we  had  already  exemplified,  and  rendered  familiar 
to  the  reader,  in  the  former  parts  of  this.  In  a  word,  if  there 
appear  to  any  one  too  great  a  diversity,  or  too  wide  a  distance 
between  the  subjects  treated  of  in  the  course  of  the  present  vol- 
ume, let  him  be  reminded,  that  the  doctrine  of  general  rules  per- 
vades and  connects  the  whole. 

It  may  not  be  improper,  however,  to  admonish  the  reader, 
that,  under  the  name  o(  politics  he  is  not  to  look  for  those  occa- 
bional  controversies  which  the  occurrences  of  the  present  day,  or 
any  temporary  situation  of  public  affairs,  may  excite  ;  and  most 
of  which,^  if  not  beneath  the  dignity,  it  is  beside  the  purpose  of  a 
philosophical  institution  to  advert  to.  He  will  perceive  that  the 
several  disquisitions  are  framed  with  a  reference  to  the  condi- 
tion of  this  country,  and  of  this  government  :  but  it  scem.ed  to 
me  to  belong  to  the  design  of  a  work  like  the  following  not  so 
much  to  discuss  each  altercated  point  with  the  particularity  of  a 
political  pamphlet  upon  the  subject,  as  to  deliver  those  univer- 
sal principles,  and  to  exhibit  that  mode  and  train  of  reasoning  in 
politics,  by  the  due  application  of  which  every  man  might  be 
enabled  to  attain  to  just  conclusions  of  his  own.  I  am  not  igno- 
rant of  an  objection  that  has  been  advanced  against  all  abstract 
speculations  concerning  the  origin,  principle,  or  limitation  of  civil 
authority  ;  namely,  that  such  speculations  posses*  little  or  no- 
influence  upon  the  conduct  either  of  the  state  or  of  the  subject, 
of  the  governors  or  the  governed  ;  nor  are  attended  with  any 
useful  consequences  to  either  ;  that  in  times  of  tranquillity  they 
are  not  wanted  ;  in  times  of  confusion  they  are  never  heard. 
This  representation,  however,  in  my  opinion,  is  not  just.     Timeg 


PREFACE.  zix 

of  tumult,  it  is  true,  are  not  the  times  to  learn  ;  but  the  cBoice 
which  men  make  of  their  side  and  partj,  in  the  most  critical  oc- 
casions of  the  commonwealth,  may  nevertheless  depend  upon  the 
lessons  they  have  received,  the  books  they  have  read,  and  the 
opinions  they  have  imbibed,  in  seasons  of  leisure  and  quietness. 
Some  judicious  persons,  who  were  present  at  Geneva  during  the 
troubles  which  lately  convulsed  that  city,  thought  Ihey  per- 
ceived, in  the  contentions  there  carrying  on,  the  operation  of 
that  political  theory,  which  the  writings  of  Rousseau,  and 
the  unbounded  esteem  in  which  these  writings  are  held  by  his 
countrymen,  had  diffused  amongst  the  people.  Throughout  the 
political  disputes  that  have  within  these  few  years  taken  place 
in  Great  Britain,  in  her  sistei  kingdom,  and  in  her  foreign  de- 
pendencies, it  was  impossible  not  to  observe,  in  the  language  of 
party,  in  the  resolutions  of  popular  meetings,  in  debate,  in  con- 
versation, in  the  general  strain  of  those  fugitive  and  diurnal  ad- 
dresses to  the  public  which  such  occasions  call  forth,  the  preva- 
lency  of  those  ideas  of  civil  authority  which  are  displayed  in  the 
works  of  Mr.  Locke.  The  credit  of  that  great  name,  the  cour- 
age and  liberality  of  his  principles,  the  skill  and  clearness  with 
which  his  arguments  are  proposed,  no  less  than  the  weight  of  the 
arguments  themselves,  have  given  a  reputation  and  currency  to 
his  opinions,  of  vvhich  I  am  persuaded,  in  any  unsettled  state  of 
public  affairs,  the  influence  would  be  felt.  As  this  is  not  a  place 
for  examining  the  truth  or  tendency  of  these  doctrines,  I  would 
not  be  understood,  hy  what  I  have  said,  to  express  any  judgment 
concerning  either.  I  mean  only  to  remark,  that  such  doctrines 
are  not  without  effect  ;  and  that  it  is  of  practical  importance  to 
have  the  principles  from  which  the  obligations  of  social  union, 
and  the  extent  of  civil  obedience,  are  derived,  rightly  explained, 
and  well  understood.  Indeed,  as  far  as  I  have  observed,  in  po- 
litical beyond  all  other  subjects,  where  men  are  without  some 
fundamental  and  scientific  principles  to  resort  to,  they  are  liable 
to  have  their  understandings  played  upon  by  cant  phrases  and 
amneaning  terms,  of  which  every  party  in  every  country  possp^- 


XX  PREFACE. 

ses  a  vocabulaiy.     ^Vc  appear  astonished  when  we  6ee  tlie  mul 
titude  led  away  by   sounds  :  but  we  should  remember,   that  if 
sounds  work  miracles,  it  is  always  upon  ignorance.     The  influ- 
ence of  names  is  in  exact  proportion  to  the  want  of  knowledge. 

These  are  the  observations  with  which  I  have  judged  it  expe- 
dient to  prepare  the  attention  of  my  -reader.  Concerning  the 
personal  motives  which  engaged  me  in  the  following  attempt,  it 
is  not  necessary  that  I  say  much  ;  the  nature  of  my  academical 
situation,  a  great  deal  of  leisure  since  my  retirement  from  it,  the 
recommendation  of  an  honoured  and  excellent  friend,  the  author- 
ity of  the  venerable  prelate  to  whom  these  labours  are  inscribed, 
the  not  perceiving  in  what  way  I  could  employ  my  time  or  tal- 
ents better,  and  my  disapprobation  in  literary  men  of  that  fasti- 
dious indolence,  which  sits  still  because  it  disdains  to  do  little, 
were  the  considerations  that  directed  my  thoughts  to  this  design. 
Nor  have  I  repented  of  the  undertaking.  Whatever  be  the  fate 
or  reception  of  this  work,  it  owes  its  author  nothing.  In  sickness 
and  in  health  1  have  found  in  it  that  which  can  alone  alleviate 
the  one,  or  give  enjoyment  to  the  other, — occupation  and  en- 
gagement. 


Tci44r<uct    :f  ^r-^ 


MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


BOOK  I. 


PRELIMIJVARY  COJVSIDERATIOJVS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

DEFINITION  AND  USE  OF  THE  SCIENCE. 

MORAL  PHILOSOPHY,  Morality,  Ethics,  Casuistry,  Na- 
tural Law,  mean  all  the  same  thing  ;  namely,  that  science  which 
teaches  men  their  duty  and  the  reasons  of  it. 

The  use  of  such  a  study  depends  upon  this,  that,  without  it, 
the  rules  of  life,  by  which  men  are  ordinarily  governed,  often- 
times mislead  them,  through  a  defect  either  in  the  rule,  or  in  the 
application. 

These  rules  are,  the  Law  of  Honour,  the  Law  of  the  Land, 
and  the  Scriptures, 


22.  THE  LAW  OF  HONOUR. 


CHAPTER  n. 

THE  LAW  OF  HONOUR. 

THE  Law  of  Honour  is  a  system  of  rules  constructed  by  peo- 
ple of  fashion,  and  calculated  to  facilitate  their  intercourse  with 
one  another  ;  and  for  no  other  purpose. 

Consequently,  nothing  is  adverted  to  by  the  Law  of  Honour, 
but  what  tends  to  incommode  this  intercourse. 

Hence  this  law  only  prescribes  and  regulates  the  duties  betwixt 
equals ;  omitting  such  as  relate  to  the  Supreme  Being,  as  well 
as  those  which  we  owe  to  our  inferiors. 

For  which  reason,  profaoeness,  neglect  of  public  worship  or 
private  devotion,  cruelty  to  servants,  rigorous  treatment  of  ten- 
ants or  other  dependents,  want  of  charity  to  the  poor,  injuries 
done  to  tradesmen,  by  insolvency  or  delay  of  payment,  with 
numberless  examples  of  the  same  kind,  are  accounted  no  breach- 
es of  honour  ;  because  a  man  is  not  a  less  agreeable  companion 
for  these  vices,  nor  the  worse  to  deal  with,  in  those  concerns 
which  are  usually  transacted  between  one  gentleman  and  another. 

Again,  the  Law  of  Honour,  being  constituted  by  men  occupi- 
ed in  the  pursuit  of  pleasure,  and  for  the  mutual  conveniency  of 
such  men,  will  be  found,  as  might  be  expected  from  the  charac- 
ter and  design  of  the  law-makers,  to  be  in  most  instances  favom*- 
able  to  the  licentious  indulgence  of  the  natural  passions. 

Thus  it  allows  of  fornication,  adultery,  drunkenness,  prodigal- 
ity, duelling,  and  of  revenge  in  the  extreme  ;  and  lays  no  stress 
upon  the  virtues  opposite  to  these. 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  LAND,  23 


CHAPTER  lU, 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  LAND. 

THAT  part  of  mankind,  who  are  beneath  the  Law  of  Hon- 
our, often  make  the  Law  of  the  Land  their  rule  of  life  ;  that  is, 
they  are  satisfied  with  themselves,  so  long  as  they  do  or  omit 
nothing,  for  the  doing  or  omitting  of  which  the  law  can  punish 
them. 

Whereas  every  system  of  human  laws,  considered  as  a  rule 
of  life,  labours  under  the  two  following  defects  : — 

L  Human  laws  omit  many  duties,  as  not  objects  of  compul- 
sion ;  such  as  piety  to  God,  bounty  to  the  poor,  forgiveness  of 
injuries,  education  of  children,  gratitude  to  benefactors. 

The  la?v  never  speaks  but  to  command,  nor  commands  but 
where  it  can  compel ;  consequently  those  duties,  which  by  their 
nature  must  be  voluntary,  are  left  out  of  the  statute-book,  as  ly- 
ing beyond  the  reach  of  its  operation  and  authority. 

II.  Human  laws  permit,  or,  which  is  the  same  thing,  suffer  to 
go  unpunished,  many  crimes,  because  they  are  incapable  of  be- 
ing defined  by  any  previous  description. — Of  which  nature  is 
luxury,  prodigality,  partiality  in  voting  at  those  elections  where 
the  qualifications  of  the  candidate  ought  to  determine  the  suc- 
cess, caprice  in  the  disposition  of  men's  fortunes  at  their  death, 
disrespect  to  parents,  and  a  multitude  of  similar  examples. 

For  this  is  the  alternative  :  the  law  must  either  define  be- 
forehand and  with  precision  the  offences  which  it  punishes,  or 
it  must  be  left  to  the  discretion  of  the  magistrate,  to  determine 
upon  each  particular  accusation,  whether  it  constitutes  that  of- 
fence which  the  law  designed  to  punish,  or  not ;  which  is,  in 


24  THE  SCRIPTURES. 

effect,  leaving  to  the  magistrate  to  punish  or  not  to  punish,  at 
his  pleasure,  the  individual  who  is  brought  before  him  ;  which 
is  just  so  much  tyranny.  Where,  therefore,  as  in  the  instances 
above-mentioned,  the  distinction  between  right  and  wrong  is  of 
too  subtle  or  of  too  secret  a  nature  to  be  ascertained  by  any 
preconcerted  language,  the  law  of  most  countries,  especially  of 
free  states,  rather  than  commit  the  liberty  of  the  subject  to  the 
discretion  of  the  magistrate,  leaves  men  in  such  cases  to  them- 
selves. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  SCRIPTURES. 

WHOEVER  expects  to  find  Tn  the  Scriptures  particular  di 
rections  for  every  moral  doubt  that  arises,  looks  for  more  than 
he  will  meet  with.  And  to  what  a  magnitude  such  a  detail  of 
particular  precepts  would  have  enlarged  the  sacred  volume, 
may  be  partly  understood  from  the  following  consideration  : — 
The  laws  of  this  country,  including  the  acts  of  the  legislature, 
and  the  decisions  of  our  supreme  courts  of  justice,  are  not  con- 
tained in  fewer  than  fifty  folio  volumes  ;  and  yet  it  is  not  once 
in  ten  attempts  tint  you  can  find  the  case  you  look  for,  in  any 
law-book  whatever  :  to  say  nothing  of  those  numerous  points  of 
conduct,  concerning  which  the  law  professes  not  to  prescribe  or 
determine  any  thing.  Had  then  the  same  particularity  which 
obtains  in  human  laws,  so  far  as  they  go,  been  attempted  in  the 
Scriptures,  throughout  the  whole  extent  of  morality,  it  is  mani- 
fest they  would  have  been  by  much  too  bulky  to  be  either  read 
or  circulated  ;  or  rather,  as  St.  John  says,  "  even  the  world  it- 
"  self  could  not  contain  the  books  that  should  be  written." 


TtlE  SCRif  TURES-,  ^5 

Morality  is  taught  in  Scripture  fn  this  wise  : — General  rules 
Sre  laid  down  of  pietj,  justice,  benevolence,  and  purity  :  such 
as,  worshipping  God  in  spirit  and  in  truth  ;  doing  as  we  would 
be  done  by  ;  loving  our  neighbour  as  ourself ;  forgiving  others, 
as  we  expect  forgiveness  from  God  ;  that  mercy  is  better  than 
sacrifice  ;  that  not  that  which  entereth  into  a  man,  (nor,  by  par- 
ity of  reason,  any  ceremonial  pollutions,)  but  that  which  pro- 
ceedeth  from  the  heart,  defileth  him.  Several  of  these  rules  are 
occasionally  illustrated,  either  in  fictitious  examples,  as  in  the 
parable  of  the  good  Samaritan  ;  of  the  cruel  servant,  who  refused 
to  his  fellow-servant  that  indulgence  and  compassion  which  his 
master  had  shown  to  him  ;  or  in  instances  wJiich  actually  pre- 
sented thenisclvcs,  as  in  Christ's  reproof  of  his  disciples  at  the  Sa- 
maritan village  ;  his  praise  of  the  poor  widow,  who  cast  in  her 
last  mi(e  ;  his  censure  of  the  Pharisees,  who  chose  out  the  chief 
rooms, — and  of  the  tradition,  whereby  they  evaded  the  com- 
mand  to  sustain  their  indigent  parents  ;  or,  lastly,  in  the  resolu- 
tion of  questions,  which  those  who  were  about  our  Savio^lr  pro- 
posed to  him;  as  his  answer  to  the  young  man  who  asked  him, 
''  What  lack  I  yet  ?"  and  to  the  honest  scribe,  who  had  found 
out,  even  in  that  age  and  country,  that  "  to  love  "  God  and 
"  his  neighbour,  was  more  than  all  whole  burnt  offerings  and 
"  sacrifice." 

And  thi.i  is  the  way  in  which  all  practical  sciences  are  taught, 
as  Arithmetic,  Grammar,  Navigation,  and  the  like. — Rules  are 
laid  down,  and  examples  are  subjoined  :  not  that  these  examples 
are  the  cases,  muck  less  all  the  cases  which  wijl  actuallj'^  occur, 
but  by  way  only  of  explaining  the  principle  of  the  rule,  and  as 
so  marty  specimens  of  the  method  of  applj'ing  it.  The  chief 
difference  is,  that  the  examples  in  Scripture  are  not  annexed  to 
the  rules  with  the  didactic  regularity  to  which  we  are  now-a- 
days  accustomed,  but  delivered  dispersedly,  as  particular  occa- 
sions suggested  them  ;  which  gave  them,  however,  (especially  to 
those  who  heard  them,  and  were  present  to  the  occasions  which 
produced  them,)  an  energy  and  persuasion,  much  beyond  what 
4 


26  THfE  MORAL  SENSE. 

tb6  same  or  any  instances  would  have  appeared  vfritb,  in  thei;? 
places  in  a  system. 

Besides  this,  the  Scriptures  commonly  pre-suppose  in  the  per- 
sons they  speak  to,  a  knowledge  of  the  principles  of  natural  jus- 
tice ;  and  are  employed,  not  so  much  to  teach  new  rules  of  mo- 
rality, as  to  enforce  the  practice  of  it  by  new  sanctions,  and  a 
greater  certainty  ;  which  last  seems  to  be  the  proper  business  of 
a  revelation  from  God,  and  what  was  most  wanted. 

Thus  flie  "  unjust,  covenant-breakers,  and  extortioners,"  are 
condemned  in  Scripture,  supposing  it  known,  or  leaving  it,  where 
it  admits  of  doubt,  to  moralists  to  determine,  what  injustice,  ex- 
tortion, or  breach  of  covenant,  are. 

The  above  considerations  are  intended  to  prove,  that  the 
Scriptures  do  not  supersede  the  use  of  the  science  of  which  we 
profess  to  treat,  and  to  acquit  them  of  any  charge  of  imperfec- 
tion or  insufficiency  on  that  account. 


CHAPTER  V* 

THE  MORAL  SENSE. 

"  THE  father  of  Cains  Toranius  had  been  proscribed  by  the 
*•'  triumvirate.  Caius  Toranius,  coming  over  to  the  interest  of 
"  that  party,  discovered  to  the  officers,  who  were  in  pursuit  of  his 
"  father's  life,  the  place  where  he  concealed  himself,  and  gave 
*'  them  withal  a  description,  by  which  they  might  distinguish  his 
"  person  when  they  found  him.  The  old  man,  more  anxious  for 
"  the  safety  and  fortunes  of  his  son,  than  about  the  little  that 
"  might  remain  of  his  own  life,  began  immediately  to  inquire 
"of  the  officers  who  seized  him.  Whether  bis  son  was  well, 
*'  whether  he  had  done  his  duty  to  the  satisfaction  of  his  gene- 
^'rals?  "  That  son,"  replied  one  of  the  officers,  "so  dear  to 
"  thy  affections,  betrayed  thee  to  us  j  by  his  information  thon 


TIIE  MORAL  SENSE.  27 

"'  art  appreliended,  and  diest."  "  The  officer  with  this  struck  a 
•"  poniard  to  his  heart,  and  the  unhappy  parent  fell,  not  so  much 
"  affected  bj  his  fate,  as  by  the  means  to  which  he  owed  it."* 

Now  the  question  is,  whether,  if  this  story  were  related  to  the 
wild  boy  caught  some  years  ago  in  the  woods  of  Hanover,  or  to 
a  savage  without  experience,  and  without  instruction,  cutoff  in 
his  infancy  from  all  intercourse  with  his  species,  and,  conse- 
quently, under  no  possible  influence  of  example,  authority,  ed- 
ucation, sympathy,  or  habit ;  whether,  I  say,  such  a  one  would 
feel,  upon  the  relation,  any  degree  of  tkat  sentiment  of  disappro- 
hatioH  of  Toranius''s  conduct  which  we  feel,  or  not  ? 

They  who  maintain  the  existence  of  a  moral  sense,  of  innate 
maxims,  of  a  natural  conscience,  that  the  love  of  virtue  and  ha- 
tred of  vice  are  instinctive,  or  the  perception  of  right  and  wrong 
intuitive,  (all  which  are  only  dififerent  ways  of  expressing  the 
same  thing,)  affirm  that  he  would. 

They  who  deny  the  existence  of  a  moral  sense,  &c.  affirm 
that  he  would  nol. 

And  upon  this,  issue  is  joined. 

As  the  experiment  has  never  been  made,  and,  from  the  diffi- 
xulty  of  procuring  a  subject,  (not  to  mention  the  impossibility 
of  proposing  the  question  to  him,  if  we  had  one,)  is  never  likely 
to  be  made,  what  would  be  the  event  can  only  be  judged  ckJT 
from  probable  reasons. 

They  who  contend  for  the  affirmative,  observe,  that  we  ap- 
prove examples  of  generosity,  gratitude,  £delity.,  &c.  and  con- 

*"Caius  Toranlus  triumvirum  partes  sscutus,  proscripti  patris  siii 
prsetorii  et  ornati  viri  latebras,  aetatem,  notasque  corporis,  quibua  agnosci 
posset,  centurionibus  edidit,  qui  eura  persecuti  sunL  Senes  de  iilii  ma- 
gis  vita,  et  incremejitis,  quam  de  reliquo  spiritu  suo  soiicitus,  ;aii  incolu- 
mis  esset,  et  an  imperatoribus,  satisfaceret,  interrogate  eos  coepit,  iE  qui- 
bus  unus :  ab  illo,  inquit  quem  tautopere  diligis,  demcBstratiis  nostro 
nainisterio,  filii  indicio  occideris :  protinusque  pectus  ejus  gladio  trajecit^ 
Coilapsus  ilaqae  est  iafelix,  auctore  csedis,  quam  ipsa  cede,  luiserior." 

Valek.  Max.  Lib,  vs..  cap.  It, 


20  Tin:  MOPtAr.  sense. 

deinn  (he  ctjnlraiy,  instantly,  without  deliberation,  without  liav- 
ini;  any  interest  of  our  own  concerned  in  them,  oft-times  without 
being  conscious  of,  or  able  to  give  any  reason  for  our  approba- 
tion ;  that  this  approbation  is  uniform  and  univer.'ra],  the  same 
sorts  of  conduct  being  approved  or  disapproved  in  all  ages  and 
countries  of  the  world, — circumstances,  say  they,  which  strongly 
indicate  the  operation  of  an  instinct  or  moral  sense. 

On  the  other  hand,  answers  have  been  given  to  most  of  these 
arguments  by  the  patrons  of  the  opposite  system  ;  and. 

First,  As  to  the  uniformity  above  alleged,  they  controvert  the 
fact.  They  remark,  from"  authentic  accounts  of  historians  and 
travellers,  that  there  is  scarce  a  single  vice  which,  in  some  age 
or  country  of  the  world,  has  not  been  countenanced  by  public 
opinion  ;  that  in  one  country,  it  is  esteemed  an  office  of  piety 
in  children  to  sustain  their  aged  parents,  in  another,  to  despatch 
them  out  of  the  way  ;  that  suicide,  in  one  age  of  the  world,  has 
been  heroism,  in  another  felony  ;  that  theft,  which  is  punished 
by  most  laws,  by  the  laws  of  Sparta  was  not  unfrequently  re-- 
warded  ;  that  the  promiscuous  commerce  of  the  sexes,  although 
condemned  by  the  regulations  and  censure  of  all  civilized  nations, 
is  practised  by  the  savages  of  the  tropical  regions  without  reserve, 
compunction,  or  disgrace  :  that  crimes,  of  which  it  is  no  longer 
permitted  us  even  to  speak,  have  had  their  advocates  amongst 
the  sages  of  very  renowned  times  ;  that,  if  an  inhabitant  of  the 
polished  nations  of  Europe  be  delighted  with  the  appearance, 
wherever  he  meets  with  it,  of  happiness,  tranquillity,  and  com- 
fort, a  wild  American  is  no  less  diverted  with  the  writhings  and 
contortions  of  a  victim  at  the  stake  ;  that  even  amongst  ourselves, 
and  in  the  present  improved  state  of  moral  knowledge,  we  are  far 
from  a  perfect  consent  in  our  opinions  or  feelings  ;  that  you  shall 
hear  duelling  alternately  reprobated  and  applauded,  according 
to  the  sex,  age,  or  station  of  the  person  you  converse  with  ;  that 
the  forgiveness  of  injuries  and  insults  is  accounted  by  one  sort  of  ^bJl 
people  magnanimity,  by  another,  meanness  ;  that  in  the  above  '* 

instances,  and  perha;os  in  most  otheis,  moral  approbation  fo'lowj 


THE  MORAL  SENSE.  29 

the  fashions  and  institutions  of  the  country  we  live  in  ;  which 
fashions  also  and  institutions  themselves  have  grown  out  of  the  ex- 
igencies, the  climate,  situation,  or  local  circumstances  of  the  coun- 
try ;  or  have  been  set  up  by  the  authority  of  an  abitrary  chief- 
tain, or  the  unaccountable  caprice  of  the  multitude  ; — all  which, 
they  observe,  looks  very  little  like  the  steady  hand  and  indelible 
characters  of  nature.     But, 

Secondly,  Because,  after  these  exceptions  and  abatements,  it 
cannot  be  denied  but  that  some  sorts  of  actions  command  and 
receive  the  esteem  of  mankind  more  than  others,  and  that  the 
approbation  of  them  is  general,  though  not  universal :  As  to  this 
ihey  say,  that  the  general  approbation  of  virtue,  even  in  instances 
where  we  have  no  interest  of  our  own  to  induce  us  to  it,  may  bo 
accounted  for  without  the  assistance  of  a  moral  sense  ;    thus  : — 

"  Having  experienced,  in  some  iustancc,  a  particular  conduct 
*'  to  be  ben(^ficial  to  ourselves,  or  observed  tliat  it  would  be  so, 
^  a  sentiment  of  approbation  rises  up  inour  minds;  which  sentiment 
"  afterwards  accompanies  the  idea  or  mention  of  the  same  con- 
"  duct,  although  the  private  advantage  which  tirst  excited  it  be 
"  no  mere." 

And  this  continuance  of  the  passion  after  the  reason  of  it  has 
eeased,  is  nothing  else,  §ay  they,  than  what  happens  in  other 
cases  ;  especially  in  the  love  of  money,  which  is  in  no  person 
so  strong  and  eager,  as  it  is  oftentimes  found  to  be  in  a  rich  old 
miser,  without  family  to  provide  for,  or  friend  to  oblige  by  it, 
and  to  whom  consequently  it  is  np  longer  (and  he  may  be  sensi- 
ble  of  it  too)  of  any  real  use  or  value  ;  yet  is  this  man  as  much 
overjoyed  with  gain,  and  mortified  by  losses,  as  he  was  the  first 
day  he  opened  his  shop,  and  when  his  very  subsistence  depended 
upon  his  success  in  it. 

By  these  means  the  custom  of  approving  certain  actions  com- 
menced ;  and  when  once  such  a  custom  hath  got  footing  in  the 
world,  it  is  no  difficult  thing  to  explain  how  it  is  transmitted  and 
continued  ;  for  then  the  greatest  part  of  those  who  approve  of 
virtue,   appfove  of  it  from  authority,   by  jraitationj  *nd  from  a 


30  THE  MORAL  SENSE. 

habit  of  approving  such  and  such  actions  inculcated  in  earjj 
youth,  and  receiving,  as  men  grow  up,  continual  accessions  of 
strength  and  vigour,  from  censure  and  encouragement,  from  the 
books  they  read,  the  conversations  they  hear,  the  current  appli- 
cation of  epithets,  and  turn  of  language,  and  the  various  other 
causes  by  which  it  universally  comes  to  pass,  that  a  society  of 
men,  touched  in  the  feeblest  degree  with  the  same  passion,  soon 
tiommunicate  to  one  another  a  great  degree  of  it.*  This  is  the 
case  with  most  of  us  at  present  ;  and  is  the  cause  also  that  the 
process  of  association,  described  in  the  last  paragraph  but  one, 
is  now-a-days  little  either  perceived  or  wanted. 

Amongst  the  causes  assigned  for  the  continuance  and  diffusion 
of  the  same  moral  sentiments  amongst  mankind,  we  have  men- 
tioned imitation.  The  efficacy  of  this  principle  is  most  observ- 
able in  children  ;  indeed,  if  there  be  any  thing  in  them  which 
deserves  the  name  of  an  instinct,  it  is  their  propensity  to  imitation. 
Now,  there  is  nothing  which  children  imitate  or  apply  more 
readily  than  expressions  of  affection  and  aversion,  of  approbation, 
hatred,  resentment^  and  the  like  ;  and  when  these  passions  and 
expressions  are  once  connected,  whiph  they  soon  will  be  by  the 
same  association  which  unites  words  with  their  ideas,  the  passion 
will  follow  the  expression,  and  attach  upon  the  object  to  which 
the  child  has  been  accustomed  to  apply  the  epithet.  In  a  word, 
nvhen  almost  every  thing  el«e  is  learned  by  imitation,  can  we 
wonder  to  find  the  same  cause  concerned  in  the  generation  of  our 
moral  sentiments  ? 

*  "From  instances  of  popular  tumult,  seditious,  factions,  panics,  and  oX 
»11  passions  which  are  shared  with  a  multitude,  we  may  learn  the  influence 
of  society  in  exciting  and  supporting  any  emotion  ;  while  the  most  ungo- 
vernable disorders  are  raised,  we  find,  by  that  means,  from  the  slightest 
and  most  frivolous  occasions.  He  must  be  more  or  leas  than  man  who 
kindles  not  in  the  common  blaze.  "What  wonder,  then,  that  moral  senti- 
ments are  found  ef  such  influence  in  life,  though  springing  from  principles 
which  may  appear,  at  iirst  sight,  somewhat  small  and  delicate  !"  Hume't 
inquiry  concerning  the  Pj-inciples  of  Morals,  Sect.  ix.  p.  32*5. 


THE  MORAL  SENSE.  3| 

Anofher  considerable  objection  to  the  system  of  moral  iftstincts 
is  this,  that  there  are  no  maxims  in  the  science  which  can  well 
be  deemed  innate,  as  none  perhaps  can  be  assigned,  which  are 
absolutely  and  universally  true ;  in  other  words,  which  do  not 
hend  to  circumstances.  Veracity,  \<hich  seems,  if  any  be,  & 
riatural  duty,  is  excused  in  many  cases  towards  an  enemy,  a  thief, 
or  a  mad  man.  The  obligation  of  promises,  which  is  a  first  prin- 
ciple in  morality,  depends  upon  (he  circumstances  under  which 
they  were  made  :  they  may  have  h^Qn  unlawful,  or  become  so 
since,  or  inconsistent  with  former  promises,  or  erroneous,  or  ex- 
torted ;  under  all  which  cases,  instances  may  be  suggested, 
where  the  obligation  to  perform  the  promise  would  be  dubious 
or  discharged,  and  so  of  most  other  general  rules,  when  they  come 
fo  be  actually  applied. 

An  argument  has  been  also  proposed  on  the  same  side  of  the 
question,  of  this  kind.  Together  with  the  instinct,  there  must 
have  been  implanted,  it  is  said,  a  clear  and  precise  idea  of  the 
object  upon  which  it  was  to  attach.  The  instinct  and  the  idea 
of  the  object  are  inseparable  even  in  imagination,  and  as  neces- 
sarily accompany  each  other  as  any  correlative  ideas  whatever  ; 
that  is,  in  plainer  terms,  if  we  be  prompted  by  nature  to  the  ap- 
probation of  particular  actions,  we  must  have  received  also  from 
nature  a  distinct  conception  of  the  action  we  are  thus  prompted 
fo  approve  ;  which  we  certainly  have  not  received. 

But  as  this  argument  bears  alike  against  all  instincts,  in  brutes 
as  well  as  in  men,  it  will  hardly,  I  suppose,  produce  conviction, 
though  it  may  be  difficult  to  find  an  answer  to  it. 

Upon  the  whole,  it  seems  to  me,  either  that  there  exist  no 
such  instincts  as  compose  what  is  called  the  moral  sense,  or  that 
they  are  not  now  to  be  distinguished  from  prejudices  and  habits  5 
en  which  account  they  cannot  be  depended  upon  in  moral  rea- 
soning :  I  mean,  that  it  is  not  a  safe  way  of  arguing,  to  assume 
certain  principles  as  so  many  dictates,  impulses,  and  instincts  of 
nature,  and  then  to  draw  conclusions  from  these  principles,  as  to 
the  rectitude  or  vvrongness  of  actions,  independent  of  the  tenden- 
cy of  such  actions,  or  of  any  other  consideration  whatever. 


32  THE  MORAL  SfiNSE. 

Aristotle  lays  down,  as  a  fundamental  and  self-evident  maxim, 
thai  nature  intended  barbarians  to  be  slaves,  and  proceeds  to  de- 
duce from  this  maxim  a  train  of  conclusions,  calculated  to  justify 
the  policy  which  then  prevailed.  And  I  question  whether  the 
same  maxim  be  not  still  self-evident  to  the  company  of  mer- 
chants trading  to  the  coasts  of  Africa. 

Nothing  is  so  soon  made  as  a  maxim  ;  and  it  appears  from  the 
example  of  Aristotle,  that  authority  and  convenience,  education, 
prejudice,  and  general  practice,  have  no  small  share  in  the  mak- 
ing of  them,  and  that  the  laws  of  custom  are  very  apt  to  be  mis- 
taken for  the  order  of  nature. 

For  which  reason,  I  suspect,  that  a  system  of  morality,  built 
tipon  instincts,  will  only  find  out  reasons  and  excuses  for  opinions 
and  practices  already  established, — will  seldom  correct  or  re- 
form either. 

But  further,  suppose  we  admit  the  existence  of  these  instincts, 
what  is  their  authority  ?  No  man,  you  say,  can  act  in  deliberate 
opposition  to  them  without  a  secret  remorse  of  conscience.  Rut 
this  remorse  may  be  borne  with  :  and  if  the  sinner  choose  to 
bear  with  it,  for  the  sake  of  the  pleasure  or  the  profit  which  he 
expects  from  his  wickedness  ;  or  finds  the  pleasure  of  the  sin  to 
exceed  the  remorse  of  conscience,  of  which  he  alone  is  the  judge, 
and  concerning  which,  when  he  feels  them  both  together,  he  can 
hardly  be  mistaken,  the  moral  instinct  man,  so  far  as  I  can  un- 
derstand, has  nothing  more  to  offer. 

For  if  he  allege  that  these  instincts  are  so  many  indications  of 
the  will  of  God,  and  consequently  presages  of  what  we  are  to 
look  l"or  hereafter,  this,  I  answer,  is  to  resort  to  a  rule  and  a  mo- 
tive ulterior  to  the  instincts  themselves,  and  at  which  rule  and 
motive  we  shall  by-and-by  arrive  by  a  surer  road  ; — I  say  surer, 
so  long  as  there  remains  a  controversy,  whether  there  be  any 
instinctive  maxims  at  all,  or  any  difiiculty  in  ascertaining  what 
maxims  are  instinctive. 

This  celebrated  question,  therefore,  becomes  in  our  system  a 
(juestion  of  pure  curiosity  ;  and  as  such,  we  dismiss  it  to  the  dc- 


HUMAN  HAPPINESS.  -       33 

tenriination  of  those  vvlio  are  more  inquisitive  than  we  are  con- 
cerned to  be,  about  the  natural  history  and  constitution  of  the 
imnian  species. 


CHAPTER  VL 

HUMAN  HAPPINESS. 

THE  word  happy  is  a  relative  term  ;  that  is,  when  we  call  a 
tnan  hnppy,  we  mean  that  he  is  happier  than  some  others,  with 
whom  we  compare  him  ;  than  the  generality  of  others  ;  or  than 
he  himself  was  in  some  other  situation  : — Thus,  speaking  of  one 
who  has  just  compassed  the  object  of  a  long  pursuit,  "  Now," 
vve  say,  "  he  is  hnppy  ;"  and  in  a  like  comparative  sense,  com- 
pared, that  is,  with  the  general  lot  of  mankind,  we  call  a  man 
happy  who  possesses  health  and  competency. 

In  strictness,  any  condition  may  be  denominated  happy,  in 
which  the  amount  or  aggregate  of  pleasure  exceeds  that  of  pain  ; 
and  the  degree  of  happiness  depends  upon  the  quantity  of  this 
excess. 

And  the  greatest  quantity  of  it  ordinarily  attainable  in  human 
life,  is  what  v/e  mean  by  happiness,  when  we  inquire  or  pro- 
nounce what  humaa  happiness  consists  in.* 

*  If  'Auy  positive  signification,  distinct  from  what  we  mean  by  pleasure, 
can  be  affixed  to  tlie  term  "  happiness,"  I  shoi^ld  take  it  to  denote  a  cer- 
tain state  of  the  nervous  system  in  that  part  of  the  human  frame  in  which, 
we  feel  joy  and  grief,  passions  and  afTections.  Whether  this  part  be  tlie 
heart,  which  tlie  turn  of  most  languages  would  lead  us  to  believe,  or  the 
diaphragm,  as  Buffon,  or  the  upper  orifice  of  the  stomach,  as  Van  Helmout 
thought ;  or  rather  be  a  kind  of  fine  net  work,  lining  the  whole  region  of 
the  praecordia,  as  others  have  imagined,  it  is  possible,  not  only  that  each 
painful  sensation  may  violently  shake  and  disturb  the  fibres  at  the  time, 
but  that  a  series  of  such  may  at  length  so  derange  the  A'ery  texture  of  the 
5 


34  ll^UMAN  HAl'i'lNESS. 

In  which  iiKiuhy  I  will  omit  much  usual  declamalioii  on  the 
dignity  and  capacity  ui  our  nature  ;  the  superiority  of  the  soul 
to  the  body,  of  the  rational  to  the  animal  part  of  our  constitution  , 
upon  the  worthiness,  telinement,  and  delicacy  of  some  satisfac- 
tions, or  the  meanness,  grossness,  and  sensuality  of  others  ;  be- 
cause 1  hold  that  pleasures  dilfer  in  nothing  but  in  continuance 
and  intensity  :  from  a  just  computation  of  which,  confirmed  by 
what  we  observe  of  the  apparent  cheerfulness,  tranquillity,  and 
contentment  of  men  of  diilerent  tastes,  tempers,  stations,  and 
pursuits,  every  question  concerning  human  happiness  must  re- 
ceive its  decision. 

It  will  be  our  business,  to  show,  if  we  can, 

I.  What  human  happiness  does  not  consist  in, 

II.  What  it  does  consist  in. 

First,  then.  Happiness  does  not  consist  in  the  pleasures  of 
sense,  in  whatever  profusion  or  variety  they  be  enjoyed.  By 
the  pleasures  of  sense,  I  mean,  as  well  the  animal  gratifications 
of  eating,  drinking,  and  that  by  which  the  species  is  continued, 
as  the  more  refined  pleasures  of  music,  painting,  architecture,  gar- 
dening, splendid  shows,  theatric  exhibitions  ;  and  the  pleasures, 
lastly,  of  active  sports,  as  of  hunting,  shooting,  fishing,  i^'c.    For, 

Istf    These  pleasures   continue  but  a  little  while  at  a  time. 

system,  as  to  produce  a  perpetual  irritation,  which  will  show  itself  by 
fretfuhiess,  impatience,  and  restlessness.  It  is  possible,  also,  on  the  other 
hand,  that  a  succession  of  pleasurable  sensation?  may  have  such  an  effect 
upon  this  subtile  organization,  as  to  cause  the  fibres  to  relax,  and  returu 
into  their  place  and  order,  and  thereby  to  recover,  or,  if  not  lost,  to  pre- 
serve that  harmonious  confirmation  which  gives  to  the.miud  its  sense  of 
complacency  and  satisfaction.  This  slate  may  be  denominated  happiness, 
and  is  so  far  distinguishable  from  pleasure,  that  it  does  not  refer  to  any 
particular  object  of  enjoyment,  or  consist,  like  pleasure,  in  the  gratifica- 
tion of  one  or  more  of  the  senses,  but  is  rather  the  secondary  effect  which 
such  objects  and  gratifications  produce  upon  the  nervous  system,  or  the 
state  in  whicli  they  leave  it.  These  conjectures  belong  not,  however,  to 
our  province.  The  comparative  sense,  in  which  we  have  explained  the 
term  happiness,  is  more  popular,  and  is  iuOicient  for  the  purpose  of  the 
■present  chapter. 


Tbis  is  true  of  them  all,  especially  of  the  grosser  sort.  Laying 
aside  the  preparation,  and  the  expectation,  and  computing  strict- 
ly the  actual  sensation,  we  shall  be  surprised  to  find  how  incon- 
siderable a  portion  of  our  time  they  occupy,  how  fev;  hours  in 
the  four-and-tvventy  they  are  able  to  fill  up. 

Mdhj.,  These  pleasures,  by  repetition,  lose  their  relish.  It  is 
ja  property  of  the  machine,  for  which  we  know  no  remedy,  that 
•the  organs  by  which  we  perceive  pleasure,  arc  blunted  and  be- 
numbed by  being  frequently  exercised,  in  the  same  way.  There 
is  hardly  any  one  who  has  not  found  the  difference  between  a 
gratification,  when  new,  and  when  familiar,  or  any  pleasure  which 
^does  not  become  indifferent  as  it  grows  habitual. 

3t//^,  The  eagerness  i'or  high  and  intense  delights  takes  away 

•  <lhe  relish  from  all  others  ;  and  as  such  delights  fall  rarjely  in  our 
way,  the  greater  part  of  oiir  time  becomes,  from  this  caus^, 
empty  a«<luneasy:. 

There  is  hardly  any  delusion  bywhich  men  are  greater  suf^ 
ferers  in  their  happiness,  than  by  their  expecting  too  much  from 
what  is  called  pleasure;  that  is,  from  those  intense  delights 
which  vulgarly  engross  the  name  of  pleasure.  The  very  ex- 
pectation spoils  them.  When  they  do  come,  we  are  often  en- 
gaged in  taking  pains  to  persuade  ourselves  how  much  we  are 
•pleased,  rather  than  enjoying  any  pleasure  which  springs  natur- 
ally out  of  the  object.  And  whenever  we  depend  upon  being 
vastly  delighted,  we  always  go  home  secretly  grieved  at  missing 

•  our  aiiii.  .Likewise,  as  has  been  observed  just  now,  when  this 
•humo\:r  of  .being  prodigiously  del'ighted  has  once  taken  hold  of 
.the  imagination,  it  hinders  us  from  providing  for,  or  acquiescing 
in,  those  gently  soothing  engagements,  the  due  variety  and  suc- 

^cession  of  which  are  the  only  tilings  that  supply  a  continued 
stream  of  happiness. 

What  1  have  been  able  to  observe  of  that  part  of  rnankind.s 
•whose  professed  pursuit  is  plonsure,  and  who  are  withheld  in  the; 
rp^rsuit  by  no  resti-aints  of  fortune,  or  scruples  of  cotiscJencs.,  coj- 


36  HUMAN  HAPPINESS. 

responds  sufficiontlj  with  this  account.  I  have  commonly  re- 
marked in  such  men,  a  restless  and  inextinguishable  passion  for 
variety  ;  a  great  part  of  their  time  to  be  vacant,  and  so  much  of 
it  irksome  ;  and  that,  with  whatever  cai^erness  and  expectation 
they  set  out,  they  become,  by  degrees,  fastidious  in  their  choice 
of  pleasure,  languid  in  the  enjoyment,  yet  miserable  under  the 
^vant  of  it. 

The  truth  seems  to  be,  that  there  is  a  limit  at  vvhicli  these 
pleasui'es  soon  arrive,  and  from  which  they  ever  afterward?  de-r 
clinc.  They  are  by  necessity  of  short  duration,  as  the  organs 
cannot  hold  on  their  emotions  beyond  a  certain  length  of  time  : 
and  if  yon  endeavour  to  compensate  for  this  imperfection  in  theip 
nature,  by  the  frocjuvncy  with  which  you  repeat  them,  you  lose 
more  than  you  gain,  by  the  fatigue  of  the  faculties,  and  tlie  di-. 
jninution  of  sensibility. 

We  have  said  nothing  in  this  account,  of  the  loss  of  opp(»rtuni- 
ties,  or  the  decay  of  faculties,  which,  whenever  they  happen, 
leave  the  voluptuary  destitute  and  desperate  ;  teased  by  desires 
that  can  never  be  gratified,  and  the  memory  of  pleasures  which 
must  return  no  more. 

It  will  also  be  allowed  by  those  who  have  experienced  it,  and 
perhaps  by  those  alone,  that  pleasure  which  is  purchased  by  the 
encumberancc  of  our  fortune,  is  purchased  too  dear  ;  the  pleas- 
ure never  compensating  for  the  perpetual  irritatiun  of  embarras- 
sed circumstances. 

These  pleasures,  after  all,  have  their  value  ;  and  as  the 
young  are  always  too  eager  in  their  pursuit  of  them,  the  old 
are  sometimes  too  remiss  ;  that  is,  too  studious  of  their  ease,  to 
be  at  the  pains  for  them  which  they  really  deserve. 

Secondly,  Neither  does  happiness  consist  in  an  exemption 
from  pain,  labor,  care,  business,  suspense,  moIe^tation,  and 
"  those  evils  which  are  without  ;"  such  a  state  being  usually  at- 
tended, not  with  ease,  but  with  depression  of  spirits,  a  tastelessr 
ness  in  all  our  ideas,  imaginary  anxieties,  and  the  whole  train  pf 
hypochondriacal  affections.. 


HUMAN  HAPPINESS.  37 

For  which  reason,  it  seldom  answers  the  exjiectations  of  tliose 
"fvho  retire  from  their  shop-  and  counting-houses  to  enjoy  the  re-? 
mainder  of  their  days  in  leisure  and  tranquillity  ;  much  less  of 
such,  as,  in  a  fit  of  chagrin,  shut  themselves  up  in  cloisters  and 
hermitages,  or  quit  the  world,  and  their  stations  in  it,  for  solitude 
and  repose. 

Where  there  exists  a  knpwn  external  cause  of  uneasiness,  the 
cause  may  be  removed,  and  the  uneasaiess  will  cease.  But 
those  imaginary  distresses  which  men  feel  for  w"ant  of  real  ones, 
(and  which  are  equally  tormenting,  and  so  far  equally  real,)  as 
they  depend  upon  no  single  or  assignable  subject  of  uneasiness, 
admit  oftentimes  of  no  application  or  relief. 

Hence  a  moderate  pain,  upon  which  the  attention  may  fasten 
and  spend  itself,  is  to  many  a  refreshment  ;  as  a  fit  of  the  gout 
will  sometimes  cure  the  spleen.  And  the  same  of  any  moderate 
agitation  of  the  mind,  as  a  literary  controversy,  a  law-suit,  a 
contested  election,  and  above  all,  gaming  ;  the  passion  for  which, 
in  men  of  fortune  and  liberal  minds,  is  only  to  be  accounted  for 
on  this  principle. 

Thirdly,  Neither  does  happiness  consist  in  greatness,  rank, 
or  elevated  station. 

Were  it  true,  that  all  superiority  afforded  pleasure,  it  woul4 
follow,  that  by  how  much  we  wei-e  the  greater,  that  is,  the  more 
persons  we  were  superior  to,  in  the  same  proportion,  so  far  as 
depended  upon  this  cause,  we  should  be  the  happier  ;  but  so  it 
is,  that  no  superiority  yields  any  satisfaction,  savp  that  which 
we  possess  or  obtain  over  those  with  whom  we  immediately  com- 
pare ourselves.  The  shepherd  perceives  no  pleasure  in  his  su- 
periority over  his  dog  ;  the  farmer,  in  his  superiority  over  the 
shepherd  ;  the  lord,  in  his  supeii^rity  over  the  farmer  ;  par  the 
king,  lastly,  in  his  superiority  over  the  lord.  Superiority,  where 
there  is  no  coinpetition,  is  seldom  contemplated  ;  what  most 
men  indeed  are  quite  unconscious  of. 

But  if  the  same  shepherd  can  run,  fight,  or  wrestle,  better 
than  the  peasants  of  his  village  ;  if  the  farm.er  can   show  better 


38  HUMAN  IIArPlXESS 

cattle,  if  he  keep  a  belter  horse,  or  be  «uppo'-nd  to  h.ive  a  longer 
purse  than  any  farmer  in  the  himdrefl  ;  if  tl)e  lord  have  more 
interest  in  an  election,  greater  favour  at  court,  a  better  house, 
or  larger  estate,  than  any  nobleman  in  the  county  ;  if  the  king 
possess  a  more  extensive  territory,  a  more  powerful  fleet  or  ar- 
my, a  more  splendid  establishment,  more  loyal  subjects,  or  more 
weight  and  authority  in  adjusting  the  affairs  of  nations,  than  any 
prince  in  Europe  :  in  all  these  cases  the  parties  feel  an  actual 
satisfaction  in  their  superiority. 

T^ow,  the  conclusion  that  follows  from  hence  is  this,  that  the 
pleasures  of  ambition,  which  are  supposed  to  be  peculiar  to  high 
stations,  are  in  reality  common  to  all  conditions.  The  farrier 
who  shoes  a  horse  better,  and  who  is  in  greater  request  for  his 
skill  than  any  man  within  ten  miles  of  him.  possesses,  for  all 
that  I  can  see,  the  delight  of  distinction  and  of  excelling,  as  tru- 
ly and  substantially  as  the  statesman,  the  soldier,  and  the  schol- 
ar, who  have  filled  Europe  with  the  reputation  of  their  wisdom, 
their  valour,  or  their  knowledge. 

No  superiority  appears  to  be  of  anj'  account,  but  superiority 
over,  a  rival.  This,  it  is  manifest,  may  exist  wherever  rivalships 
do  ;  and  rivalships  fall  out  amongst  men  of  all  ranks  and  degrees. 
The  object  of  emulation,  the  dignity  or  magnitude  of  this  object, 
makes  no  difference  ;  as  it  is  not  what  either  possesses  that  con- 
stitutes the  pleasure,  but  what  one  possesses  more  than  the  other. 

Philosophy  smiles  at  the  contempt  with  which  the  rich  and 
grea*  speak  of  the  petty  strifes  arwl  competitions  of  tlie  poor; 
■not  reflecting,  that  these  strifes  and  competitions  are  just  as 
reasonable  as  their  own,  and  the  pleasure  which  success  affords, 
the  same. 

Our  position  is,  that  happines  does  not  consist  in  greatness. 
And  this  position  we  make  out  by  showing,  that  even  what  are 
supposed  to  be  the  peculiar  advantages  of  greatness,  the  pleas- 
ures of  ambition  and  superiority,  are  in  realit}^  common  to  all 
conditions.  But  whether  the  jiursuits  of  ambition  be  ever  wise» 
•whether  they  contribute  more  to  the  happiness  or  miserj'  of  tbft 


HUMAN  HAPPINESS.  39 

pursuers,  is  a  different  question,  and  a  question  concerning  which 
we  may  be  allowed  to  entertain  great  doubt.  The  pleasure  of 
success  is  exquisite  ;  so  also  is  the  anxiety  of  the  pursuit,  and 
the  pain  of  disappointment ; — and  what  is  the  worst  part  of  the 
account,  the  pleasure  is  short-lived.  We  soon  cease  to  look 
back  upon  thosic  whom  v/e  have  left  behind  ;  new  contests  are 
engaged  in,  new  prospects  uiiibld  themselves  ;  a  succession  of 
struggles  is  kept  u}),  whilst  there  is  a  rival  lei't  within  the  com- 
pass of  our  views  and  profession  ;  and  when  there  is  none,  the 
pleasure,  with  the  pursuit,  is  at  an  cjid. 

II.  We  have  seen  what  happiness  does  not  consist  in.  We 
are  next  to  consider  in  what  it  does  consist. 

In  the  conduct  of  life,  the  great  matter  is,  to  know  beforehand 
what  will  please  us,  and  what  pleasure  will  hold  out.  So  far  as 
we  know  this,  our  choice  will  be  justified  by  the  event.  And 
this  knowledge  is  more  scarce  and  difficult  than  at  first  sight  it 
may  seem  to  be  ;  for  sometimes  pleasures  which  are  wonderful- 
ly alluring  and  flattering  iti  the  prospect,  turn  out. in  the  posses- 
sion extremely  insipid,  or  do  not  hold  out  as  we  expected  ;  at 
other  times,  pleasures  start  up  which  never  entered  into  our  cal- 
culation, and  which  we  might  have  missed  of  by  not  foreseeing  ; 
from  whence  we  have  reason  to  believe,  that  we  actually  do 
miss  of  many  pleasures  from  the  same  cause.  I  say,  to  know 
"  beforehand  ;"  for,  after  the  experiment  is  tried,  it  is  com- 
monly impracticable  to  retreat  or  change  ;  beside  that  shilling 
and  changing  is  apt  to  generate  a  habit  of  I'estlessness,  which  is 
destructive  of  the  happiness  of  every  condition. 

By  reason  of  the  original  diversity  of  taste,  capacity,  and  con- 
■stitution,  observable  in  the  human  species,  and  the  still  greater 
variety  which  habit  and  fashion  have  introduced  in  these  partic- 
ulars, it  is  impossible  to  propose  any  plan  of  happiness  which 
will  succeed  to  a!!,  or  any  method  of  life  which  is  univei-sally 
eligible  or  practicable. 

All  that  can  be  said  is,  that  there  remains  a  presumption  in 
iavour  of  tliose  couditiuns  of  life,  in  which  men  generally  ap- 


40  HUMAN  JIAPPINLS^. 

pear  moft  dicrrlul  and  contented.  For  though  the  apparent 
ha|)piness  ot'inankimi  Ije  not  always  a  true  measure  of  their  real 
happiness,  it  is  the  best  measure  we  have. 

Taking  this  for  my  guide,  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  hap- 
piness consists, 

I.  In  the  exercise  of  the  social  affections. 

Those  persons  commonly  possess  good  spirits,  who  have  about 
them  many  objects  of  affection  and  endearment,  as  wife,  chil- 
dren, kindred,  friends.  And  to  the  want  of  these  may  be  ini- 
pulcid  the  peevishness  of  monks,  and  of  such  as  lead  a  monastic 
life. 

Of  the  same  nature  with  the  indulgence  of  our  domestic  affec- 
tions, and  equally  refreshing  to  the  spirits,  is  the  pleasure  which 
results  from  acts  of  bounty  and  beneiicence,  exercised  either  in 
giving  mcney,  or  in  imparting  to  those  who  want  it  the  assistance 
of  our  skill  and  profession. 

Another  main  article  of  human  happiness  is, 

II.  The  exercise  of  our  faculties,  either  of  body  or  mind,  in 
the  pursuit  of  some  engaging  end. 

It  seems  to  be  true,  that  no  plenitude  of  present  gratifications 
can  make  the  possessor  happy  for  a  continuance,  unless  he  have 
something  in  reserve, — something  to  hope  for,  and  look  forward  to. 
This  I  conclude  to  be  the  case,  from  comparing  the  alacrity  and 
spirits  of  men  who  are  engaged  in  any  pursuit  which  interests 
Ihem,  with  the  dejection  and  ennui  of  almost  all,  who  are  either 
born  to  so  much  that  they  want  nothing  more,  or  who  have  vsed 
vp  their  satisfactions  too  soon,  and  drained  the  sources  of  them. 

It  is  this  intolerable  vacuity  of  mind  which  carries  the  rich 
and  great  to  the  horse-course  and  the  gamiiig-t:ible  ;  and  often 
engages  them  in  contests  and  {)ursuils,  of  which  the  success 
bears  no  proportion  to  the  solicitude  and  expense  with  which  it 
is  sought.  An  election  for  a  disputed  borough  shall  cost  the 
parties  twenty  or  thirty  thousand  pounds  each, — to  say  nothing 
of  the  anxiety,  humiliation,  and  fatigue  of  the  canvass  ;  when  a 
scat  in  the  House  of  Commons,  of  exactly  llie  same  value,  may 


HUMAN  HAPPINESS.  41 

be  had  for  a  tenth  part  of  the  money,  and  with  no  trouble.  1 
do  not  mention  this  to  blame  the  rich  and  great,  (perhaps  they 
cannot  do  better,)  but  in  confirmation  of  what  I  have  advanced. 

Hope,  which  thus  appears  to  be  of  So  much  importance  to 
our  happiness,  is  of  two  kinds  ; — where  there  is  something  to  be 
done  towards  attaining  the  object  of  our  hope,  and  where  there 
is  nothing  to  be  done.  The  first  alone  is  of  any  value  ;  the  lat- 
ter being  apt  to  corrupt  into  impatience,  having  no  power  but  to 
sit  still  and  wait,  which  soon  grovvs  tiresome. 

The  doctrine  delivered  under  this  head  may  be  readily  ad- 
mitted ;  but  how  to  provide  ourselves  with  a  succession  of  pleas- 
urable engagements,  is  the  difficulty.  This  requires  two  things  ; 
judgment  in  the  choice  of  ends  adapted  to  our  opportunitieSj 
jtnd  a  command  of  imagination,  so  as  to  be  able,  when  the 
judgment  has  made  choice  of  an  end,  to  transfer  a  pleasure  to 
the  means  ;  after  which,  the  end  may  be  forgotten  as  soon  as  we 
will. 

Hence  those  pleasures  are  most  valuable,  not  which  are  most 
exquisite  in  the  fruition,  but  most  productive  of  engagement  and 
activity  in  the  pursuit. 

A  man  who  is  in  earnest  in  his  endeavours  after  the  happiness 
of  a  future  state,  has,  in  this  respect,  an  advantage  over  all  the 
world  ;  lor  he  has  constantly  before  his  eyes  an  object  of  supreme 
importance,  productive  of  perpetual  engagement  and  activity, 
and.  of  which  the  pursuit  (which  can  be  said  of  no  pursuit  be- 
sides) lasts  him  to  his  life's  end.  Yet  even  he  must  have  many 
ends,  besides  ihefar  end  ;  but  then  they  will  conduct  to  that,  be 
subordinate,  and  in  some  way  or  other  capable  of  being  referred 
to  that,  and  derive  their  satisfaction,  or  an  addition  of  happiness, 
from  that. 

Egagenient  is  every  thing  :  the  more  significant,  however, 
our  engagements  are,  the  better  :  such  as  the  planning  of  laws,  in- 
stitutions, manufactures,  charities,  improvements,  public  works  ; 
and  the  endeavouring,  by  our  interest,  address,  solicitations,  and 
activity,  to  c,irry  them  into  effect :  or  upon  a  smaller  scale;  the 
6 


42.  HUMAN  IIAPHNES5. 

procuting  of  n  nviintenance  anil  fortune  for  our  familira  by  a 
course  of  industry  and  application  to  our  callings,  which  forms 
and  gives  motion  to  the  common  occupations  of  life  ;  training  up 
a  child  ;  prosecuting  a  scheme  for  his  future  establishment  ; 
making  ourselves  masters  of  a  language  or  a  science  ;  improv- 
ing or  managing  an  estate;  labouring  after  apiece  of  prefer- 
ment :  and  lastly,  atiy  engagement  which  is  innocent,  is  better 
than  none  ;  as  the  writing  of  a  book,  the  building  of  a  house, 
the  laying  out  of  a  garden,  the  digging  of  a  fish-pond, — even 
the  raising  of  a  cucumber  or  a  tulip. 

Whilst  the  mind  is  taken  up  with  the  objects  or  business  be- 
fore it,  we  are  commonly  happy,  whatever  the  object  or  business 
be  ;  wh<-n  the  mind  is  absc7it,  and  the  thoughts  are  wandering  to 
something  else  than  what  is  passing  in  the  place  in  which  we- 
are,  we  are  often  miserable. 

III.  Happiness  depends  upon  the  .prudent  constitution  of  the 
habits. 

The  art  in  which  the  secret  of  human  happiness  in  a  great  meas- 
ure consists  is,  to  set  the  habits  in  such  a  manner,  that  every 
change  may  be  a  change  for  the  better.  The  habits  themselves 
are  much  the  same  ;  for,  whatever  is  made  habitual  becomes 
smooth,  and  easy,  and  indifferent.  The  return  to  an  old  habit 
is  likewise  easy,  whatever  tlie  habit  be.  Therefore  the  advan- 
tage is  with  those  habits  which  allow  of  an  indulgence  in  the  de- 
viation from  them.  The  luxurious  receive  no  greater  pleasure 
from  their  dainties,  than  the  peasant  does  from  his  bread  and 
cheese  :  but  the  peasant,  whenever  he  goes  abroad,  finds  a 
feast  ;  W'hereas  the  epicure  must  be  well  entertained,  to  escape 
disgust.  Those  who  spend  every  day  at  cards,  and  those  who 
jTO  every  day  to  plough,  pass  their  time  much  alike  ;  intent  up- 
on what  they  are  about,  wanting  nothing,  regretting  nothing,  they 
are  both  in  a  state  of  ease  :  but  then,  whatever  suspends  the 
occupation  of  the  card  player,  distresses  him  ;  whereas  to  the 
labourer,  every  interruption  is  a  refreshment :  and  this  appear^- 
ifiihe  different  effects  that  Sunday  produces  upon  the  two,  which 


HUMAN  HAPPINESS.  4S 

'|wrm'es  a  day  of  recreation  to  the  one,  but  a  lamentable  burthen 
.^o  the  other.  The  man  who  has  learned  to  live  alone,  feels  his 
spirits-enlivened  whenever  he  enters  into  company,  and  takes 
Jiis  leave  without  regret  ;  another,  who  has  long  been  accus- 
tomed to  a  crowd,  or  continual  succession  of  company,  experi- 
ences in  company  no  elevation  of  spirits,  nor  any  greater  satis- 
facfion  than  what  the  man  of  a  retired  life  finds  in  his  chiraney- 
■corner.  So  far  their  conditions  are  equal  :  but  let  a  change  of 
place,  fortune,  or  situation,  separate  the  companion  from  his 
-circle,  his  visitors,  his  club,  con)mon  room,  or  cotTee-house,  and 
the  difiference  and  advantage  in  th(;  choice  and  constitution  of  the 
two  habits  will  show  itself.  Solitude  comes  to  the  one  clothed 
with  melancholy  ;  to  the  other,  it  brings  liberty  and  quiet.  You 
will  see  the  one  fretful  and  restless,  at  a  loss  how  to  dispose  of 
his  time,  4ill  the  hour  comesround  when  he  may  forget  himseii 
in  bed  ;  the  other,  easy  and  satisfied,  taking  up  his  book  or  hie 
pipe,  as  soon  as  he  finds  himself  alone,  ready  to  admit  any  little 
.amusement  that  casts  up,  or  to  turn  his  hands  and  attention  to  the 
first  business  that  presents  itself;  or  content,  without  either,  to  sit 
still,  and  let  his  train  of  thought  glide  indolently  through  his 
brain,  without  much  use  perhaps,  or  pleasure,  but  without  han- 
Jcering  after  any  thing  better,  and  without  irritation.  A  reader, 
who  has  inured  himself  to  books  of  science  and  argumentation,  if  a 
novel,  a  well  written  pamphlet,  an  article  of  news,  a  narrative  of 
a  curious  voyage,  or  the  journal  of  a  traveller,  fall  in  his  way, 
^its  down  to  the  repast  with  relish,  enjoys  hLs  entertainment  while 
it  lasts,  and  can  return,  when  it  is  over,  to  his  graver  reading, 
without  distaste.  Another,  with  whom  nothing  will  go  down  but 
works  of  humour  and  pleasantry,  or  whose  c«riosily  must  be  in- 
terested by  perpetual  novelty,  will  consume  a  bookseller's 
window  in  half  a  forenoon;  during  which  time  he  is  rather  in 
search  of  diversion  than  diverted  ;  and  as  books  to  his  taste  are 
few,  and  short,  and  rapidly  read  over,  the  stock  is  soon  exhaust- 
ed, when  he  is  left  without  resource  from  this  piinciplc  supplw 
af  ianoceat  amusement. 


44  HUMAN  HAPPINTJ?S. 

So  far  as  circumstances  of  fortune  conduce  to  hnppinoss,  it  is* 
not  the  income  which  any  man  possesses,  but  the  increase  of 
income,  tliat  affords  the  pleasure.  Two  j)ersons,  of  whom  one 
begins  nith  a  hundrexi,  and  advances  his  income  to  a  thousand 
pounds  ?i-year,  and  the  other  sets  off  with  a  thousand,  and  dwin- 
dles down  to  a  hundred,  may,  in  the  course  of  their  time  have 
the  receipt  and  spending  of  the  same  sui;n  of  money  ;  yet  their 
satisfaction,  so  far  as  fortune  is  concerned  in  it,  will  be  very  dif- 
fercHt  ;  the  series  and  sum  total  of  their  incomes  being  the 
same,  it  makes  a  wide  difference  at  which  end  they  begin. 

IV.  Happiness  consists  in  health. 

By  health  1  understand,  as  well  freedom  from  bodily  distem- 
pers, as  that  tranquility,  firmness,  and  alacrity  of  mind,  which 
we' call  good  spirits  ;  and  which  may  properly  enough  be  inclu- 
ded in  our  notion  of  health,  as  depending  commonly  upon  the 
same  causes  and  yiel-ding  to  the  same  management,  as  our  bodi-r 
]y  constitution. 

Health,  in  this  sense,  is  the  one  thing  needful  :  Therefore  no 
pains,  expense,  or  self-denial,  or  restraint  which  we  submit  to 
for  the  sake  of  it,  is  too  much.  Whether  it  require  us  to  relin- 
quish lucrative  situations,  to  abstain  from  favourite  indulgences, 
to  control  intemperate  passions,  or  undergo  tedious  regimens  ; 
whatever  difficulties  it  lays  us  under,  a  man  who  pursues  his 
happiness  rationally  and  resolutely,  will  be  content  to  submit  to. 

When  we  are  in  perfect  health  and  spirits,  we  feel  in  our- 
selves a  happiness  independent  of  any  particular  outward  grat- 
'  ification  whatever,  and  of  which  we  can  give  no  account.  This 
is  an  enjoyment  which  the  Deity  has  annexed  to  life  ;  and  prob- 
ably constitutes,  in  a  great  measure,  the  happiness  of  infants 
and  brutes,  especially  of  the  lower  and  sedentary  orders  of  an- 
imals, as  of  oysters,  periwinkles,  and  the  like  ;  for  which  I  havt 
sometimes  been  at  a  loss  to  find  out  amusement. 

The  above  account  of  human  happiness  will  justify  the  two  fol- 
lowing conclusions,  which,  although  fpund  in  most  books  of  mo- 
ralitj>,  have  seldom  been  supported  by  any  sufficient  reasons  :— 


VIRTUE.  45 

First,  That  happiness  is  pretty  equally  distributed  amongst 
the  different  orders  of  civil  society. 

Secondly,  That  vice  has  no  advantage  over  virtue,  even 
with  respect  to  this  \yorld's  happiness. 


CHAPTER  Vn. 

VIRTUE. 

VIRTUE  is  "  the  doing  good  to  mankind,  in  obedience  to 
'^'  the  will  of  God.  and  for  the  sake  of  everlasting  happiness.^'' 

According  to  which  definition,  the  "  good  of  mankind"  is  the 
subject ;  the  "  will  of  God"  the  rule  ;  and  "  everlasting  happi- 
"  ness,"  the  motive  of  human  virtue. 

Virtue  has  been  divided  by  some  into  benevolence,  prtidcnee, 
fortitude,  and  temperance.  Benevolence  proposes  good  ends  ; 
prudence  suggests  the  best  means  of  attaining  them  ;  fortitude 
enables  us  to  encou'iter  the  difficulties,  dangers,  and  discourage- 
ments, which  stand  in  our  way  in  the  pursuit  of  these  ends  ;  tem- 
perance repels  and  overcomes  the  passions  that  obstruct  it.  Be- 
nevolence, for  instance,  prompts  us  to  undertake  the  cause  of  an 
oppressed  orphan  ;  prudence  suggests  the  best  means  of  going 
about  it ;  fortitude  enables  us  to  confront  the  danger,  and  bear 
up  against  the  loss,  disgrace,  or  repulse,  that  may  attend  our  un- 
dertaking ;  and  temperance  keeps  under  the  love  of  money,  of 
(ease,  or  amusement,  which  might  divert  us  I'rom  it. 

Virtue  is  distinguished  by  others  Into  two  branches  only, — 
prudence  and  benevolence  ;  prudence,  attentive  to  our  own  inter- 
est  ;  benevolence,  to  that  of  our  fellow-creatures  :  both  direct- 
ed to  the  same  end,  the  increase  of  happiness  in  nature  ;  anU 
taking  equal  concern  in  the  future  as  in  the  present. 

The  four  cardinal  virtues  are, — prudence,  forlitvde,  temper. 
(ince,  and  justice. 


46  •  VIRTUE. 

But  the  division  of  Virtue,  to  whicli  we  are  now-a-dayo  most 
accustomed,  is  into  duties, — 

Towards  God  ;  as  piety,  reverence,  resignation,  gratitude,  &c. 

Towards  other  men;  (or  relative  duties  ;)  as  justice,  charity^ 
fidelity,  loyalty,  &c. 

Towards  ourselves;  as  chastity,  sobriety,  temperance,  preser- 
vation of*  life,  care  of  health,  ^'c. 

There  are  more  of  these  distinctions,  which  it  is  not  worth 
while  to  set  down. 

I  shall  proceed  to  state  a  few  observations,  which  relate  to 
the  general  regulation  of  human  conduct,  unconnected  indeed 
with  each  other,  but  very  worthy  of  attention  :  and  which  fall  as 
properly  under  the  title  of  this  chapter  as  of  any  other. 

I.  Mankind  act  more  from  habit  than  reflection. 

It  is  on  few  only  and  great  occasions  that  men  deliberate  at 
all  ;  on  fewer  still,  that  they  institute  any  thing  like  a  regular 
inquiry  into  the  moral  rectitude  or  depravity  of  what  they  are 
about  to  do  ;  or  wait  for  the  result  of  it.  We  are  for  the  most 
part  determined  at  once  ;  and  by  an  impulse  Avhich  is  the  efFccl 
and  energy  of  pre-established  habits.  And  this  constitutioo 
seems  well  adapted  to  the  exigences  of  human  life,  and  to  the 
imbecility  of  our  moral  principle.  In  the  current  occasions  and 
rapid  opportunities  of  life,  there  is  oftentimes  little  leisure  for  re- 
flection ;  and  were  there  more,  a  man,  who  has  to  reason  about, 
his  duty,  when  the  temptation  to  transgress  it  is  upon  him,  is  al^ 
most  sure  to  reason  himself  into  an  error. 

If  we  are  in  so  great  a  degree  j)assivc  under  our  habits,  where, 
'it  is  asked,  is  the  exercise  of  virtue,  the  guilt  of  vice,  or  any 
use  of  moral  and  religious  knowledge  ?  I  answer,  in  i\ic  forming 
end  contracting  of  these  habits. 

And  from  hence  results  a  rule  of  life  of  considerable  import- 
ance, viz.  that  many  things  are  to  be  done  and  abstained  from, 
solely  for  the  sake  of  habit.  We  will  explain  ourselves  by  an 
example  or  two  : — A  beggar,  with  the  appearance  of  extreme 
distress,  asks  our  charity.     If  we  come  to  argue   the  matter,- 


viRttJt:.  4t 

iihether  the  distress  be  real,  whether  it  be  not  brought  upon 
himself,  whether  it  be  of  public  advantage  to  admit  such  appli- 
cations, whether  it  be  not  to  encourage  idleness  and  vagrancy, 
whether  it  may  not  invite  impostors  to  our  doorS,  whether  the 
money  can  be  well  spared,  or  might  not  be  better  applied  : 
when  these  considerations  are  put  together,  if  may  appear  very 
doubtful,  whether  we  ought  or  ought  not  to  give  any  thing.  But 
when  we  reflect,  that  the  misery  before  our  eyes  excites  our  pity, 
whether  we  will  or  not  ;  that  it  is  of  the  utmost  consequence  to  us 
to  cultivate  this  tenderness  of  mind ;  that  it  is  a  quality,  cher- 
ished by  indulgence,  and  soon  stifled  by  opposition  ;  when  this, 
I  say,  is  considered,  a  wise  man  will  do  that  for  his  own  sake, 
which  he  would  have  hesitated  to  do  for  the  petitioner's  ;  he  will 
fiive  way  to  his  compassion,  rather  than  offer  violence  to  a  habi?. 
of  so  much  general  use.  - 

A  man  of  confirmed  good  habits  will  act  in  the  same  manner 
without  any  consideration  at  all. 

This  may  serve  for  one  instance  ;  another  is  the  following  : — ■ 
A  man  has  been  brought  up  from  his  infancy  with  a  dread  of  ly- 
ing. An  occasion  presents  itself,  where,  at  the  expense  of  a  lit- 
tle veracity,  he  may  divert  his  company,  set  off  his  own  wit 
with  advantage,  attract  the  natice  and  engsge  the  partiality  of 
all  about  him.  This  is  not  a  small  temptation.  And  when  he 
fooks  at  the  other  side  of  the  question,  he  sees  no  mischief  that 
can  ensue  from  this  liberty,  no  slander  of  any  man*s  reputation, 
no  prejudice  likely  to  arise  to  any  man's  interest.  Were  there 
nothing  furthe'r  to  be  considered,  it  would  be  difficult  to  show 
why  a  man  under  such  circumstances  might  not  indulge  his  hu- 
mour. But  when  he  reflects,  that  hi«  scruples  about  lying  have 
h^itherto  preserved  him  free  from  this  vice  ;  that  occasions  like 
the  present  will  return,  where  the  inducement  may  be  equally 
strong,  but  the  indulgence  much  less  innocent ;  that  his  scru- 
ples will  wear  away  by  a  few  transgressions,  and  leave  him  sub- 
ject to  one  of  the  meanest  and  most  pernicious  of  all  bad  habits, 
—a  habit  of  lying  whenever  it  will  serve  bis  turn.     When  aU 


48  VIRTUE. 

this,  I  say,  is  considered,  a  wise  man  will  forego  the  present,  of 
a  much  greater  pleasure,  rather  than  lay  the  foundation  of  a  char- 
acter so  vicious  and  contemptible. 

From  what  has  been  said  may  be  explained  also  tl)e  nature  of 
habitual  virtue.  By  the  definition  of  Virtue,  at  the  beginning 
of  this  chapter,  it  appears,  that  the  good  of  mankind  is  the  sub- 
ject, the  will  of  God  the  rule,  and  everlasting  happiness  the  mo- 
tive and  end  of  all  virtue.  Yet,  a  man  shall  perform  many  an 
act  of  virtue,  without  having  either  the  good  of  mankind,  the  will 
of  God,  or  everlasting  happiness  in  his  thoughts  ;  just  as  a  man 
may  be  a  very  good  servant,  without  being  conscious,  at  every 
turn,  of  a  regard  to  his  master's  will,  or  of  an  express  attention 
to  his  interest  ;  and  your  best  old  servants  are  of  this  sort  : 
but  then  he  must  have  served  for  a  length  of  time  under  the  ac- 
tual direction  of  these  motives,  to  bring  it  to  this  ;  in  which  ser- 
vice his  merit  and  virtue  consist. 

There  are  habits,  not  only  of  drinking,  swearing,  and  lying, 
and  of  some  other  things,  which  are  commonly  acknowledged 
to  be  habits,  and  called  so  ;  but  of  every  modification  of  ac- 
tion, speech,  and  thought.     Man  is  a  bundle  of  habits. 

There  are  habits  of  industry,  attention,  vigilance,  advertency  ; 
of  a  prompt  obedience  to  the  judgment  occurring,  or  of  yield- 
ing to  the  first  impulse  of  passion  ;  of  extending  our  views  to 
the  future,  or  of  resting  upon  the  present ;  of  apprehending, 
methodizing,  reasoning  ;  of  indolence  and  dilatoriness  ;  of  van- 
ity, self-conceit,  melancholy,  partiality  ;  of  fretfulness,  suspi- 
cion, captiousness,  censoriousness  ;  of  pride,  ambition,  covetous- 
ness  ;  of  over-reaching,  intriguing,  projecting  ;  in  a  word,  there 
is  not  a  quality  or  fuuction,  either  of  body  or  mind,  which  doe? 
not  feel  the  influence  of  this  great  law  of  animated  nature. 

II.  The  Christian  religion  has  not  ascertained  the  precise 
quantity  of  virtue  necessary  to  salvation. 

This  has  been  made  an  objection  to  Christianity ;  but  with- 
out reason.  For,"'as  all  revelation,  however  imparted  original- 
ly, must  be  transmitted  by  the  ordinary  vehicle  of  language,  it 


VtRTUa  49 

behoves  those  who  make  the  objection,  to  show,  that  any  form 
of  words  could  be  devised,  which  might  express  this  quantity; 
or  that  it  is  possible  to  constitute  a  standard  of  moral  attain- 
ments, accommodated  to  the  almost  infinite  diversity  which  sub- 
sists in  the  capacities  and  opportunities  of  different  men. 

It  seems  most  agreeable  to  our  conceptions  of  justice,  and  is 
consonant  enough  to  the  language  of  Scripture,*  to  suppose,  that 
there  are  prepared  for  us  rewards  and  punishments,  of  all  possi- 
ble degrees,  from  the  most  exalted  happiness  down  to  extreme 
misery  ;  so  that  "  our  labour  is  never  in  vain  ;"  whatever  ad- 
vancement we  make  in  virtue,  we  procure  a  proportionable  ac- 
cession of  future  happiness  ;  as,  on  the  other  hand,  eveiy  accu» 
mulation  of  vice  is  the  "  treasuring  up  of  so  much  wrath  against 
"  the  day  of  wrath."  It  has  been  said,  that  it  can  never  be  a 
just  economy  of  Providence,  to  admit  one  part  of  mankind  into 
lieaven,  and  condemn  the  other  to  hell  ;  since  there  must  be 
very  little  to  choose,  between  tlje  worst  man  who  is  received 
into  heaven,  and  the  best  who  is  excluded.  And  bow  know  we, 
it  might  be  answered,  but  that  there  may  be  as  little  to  choose 
in  their  conditions  ? 

Without  entering  into  a  detail  of  Scripture  morality,  which 
would  anticipate  our  subject,  the  following  general  positions  may 
be  advanced,  I  think,  with  safety. 

*  "  He  which  soweth  sparingly,  shall  reap  also  sparingly ;  and  he  which 
"soweth  boiiutifully,  shall  reap  also  bountifully."  2  Cor.  ix.  6. — "And 
*'  that  servant  which  knew  his  Lord's  will,  and  prepared  not  himself, 
"neither  did  according' to  his  will,  shall  be  beaten  with  many  stripes: 
"but  he  that  knew  not,  shall  be  beaten  with  few  stripes,"  Luke,  xii.  47, 
48. — "  Whosoever  shall  give  you  a  cup  of  water  to  drink  in  my  name, 
"because  ye  belong  to  Christ ;  verily  I  say  unto  you,  he  shall  not  loss 
"his  reward ;"  to  wit,  intimating  that  there  i^.in  reserve  a  proportionable 
reward  for  even  tlie  smallest  act  of  virtue.  Mark,  is.  41. — See  also  the 
parable  of  the  pounds,  Luke,  xix.  16,  &;c. ;  where  he  whose  pound  had 
gained  ten  pounds,  was  placed  over  ten  cities ;  and  he  whose  pound  had 
gained  five  pounds,  was  placed  ovet  five  citieS. 
7 


30  VIRTUE. 

1.  That  a  slate  of  happiness  is  not  to  be  expected  hy  those 
who  are  conscious  of  no  moral  or  religious  rule.  1  mean  those 
who  cannot  with  truth  say,  that  ihej  have  been  prompted  to  one 
action,  or  witliheld  from  one  gratilication,  by  any  regard  to  vir- 
tue or  religion,  either  immediate  or  habitual. 

There  needs  no  other  proof  of -this,  than  the  consideration, 
that  a  brute  would  be  as  proper  an  object  of  reward  as  such  a 
man,  and  that,  if  the  case  were  so,  the  penal  sanctions  of  reli- 
gion could  have  no  place.  For,  whom  would  you  punish,  if  yoir 
make  such  a  one  as  this  happy  ? — or  rather  indeed  religion  it- 
sell',  both  natural  and  revealed,  would  cease  to  have  either  use 
or  authority. 

2.  That  a  state  of  happiness  is  not  to  be  expected  by  those 
who  reserve  to  themselves  the  habitual  practice  of  any  one  sin> 
or  neglect  of  one  known  duty. 

Because,  no  obedience  can  proceed  upon  proper  motives, 
which  is  not  universal  ;  that  is,  which  is  not  directed  to  every 
command  of  God  alike,  as  they  all  stand  upon  the  same  au- 
thority. 

Because  such  an  allowance  would,  in  effect,  amount  to  a  tol- 
eration of  every  vice  in  the  world. 

And  because,  the  strain  of  Scripture  language  excludes  any- 
such  hope.  When  our  (iH/tei- are  recited,  they  are  put  collec- 
tively, that  is,  as  all  and  every  of  them  required  in  the  Chris- 
tian character.  "  Add  to  your  faidi  virtue,  and  to  virtue  knowl- 
"  edge,  and  to  knowledge  temperance,  and  to  temperance  pa- 
"  tience,  and  to  patience  godliness,  and  to  godliness  brotherly 
"kindness,  and  to  brotherly  kindness  charity."*  On  the  other 
hand,  when  ■uiVfi  are  enumerated,  they  are  putdisjwictivehj,  thaS 
is,  as  separately  and  severally  excluding  the  sinner  from  heav- 
en. ^^  Neither  fornicators,  nor  idolaters,  nor  adulterers,  nor  et'- 
"  feminate,  nor  abusers  of  themselves  with  mankind,  nor  thieves, 
"  nor  covetous,  nor  drjukards,  nor  revilers,  nor  extortioneri-, 
"  shall  inherit  the  kingdom  of  heaven."! 

*  2  Pet.  i.  5,  6,  7.     t  1  Cor.  vi.  9,  10. 


VIRTUE.  5J 

Those  texts  of  Scripture  which  seem  to  lean  a  contrary  way, 
TtS  "that  charity  shall  cover  the  multitude  of  sins  ;"*  that  "  he 
*'  which  converteth  a  sinner  from  the  error  of  his  way,  shall  hide 
"a  multitude  of  sins  ;"t  cannot,  I  think,  for  the  reasons  above- 
mentioned,  be  extended  to  sins  deliberately  and  obstinately  per- 
sisted in. 

3.  That  a  state  of  mere  unprofitableness  will  not  go  unpun- 
ished. 

This  is  expressly  laid  down  by  Christ,  in  the  parable  of  the 
talents,  which  supersedes  all  further  reasoning  about  the  matter. 
"  Then  he  which  had  received  one  talent,  came  and  said.  Lord, 
"  I  know  thee  that  thou  art  an  austere  msn,  reaping  where  thou 
"  hast  not  sown,  and  gathering  where  thou  hast  notstrawod  ;  and 
"  I  was  afraid  and  hid  thy  talent  in  the  earth  :  Lo,  there  thou 
*'  hast  that  is  thine.  His  lord  answered  and  said  unto  him,  Thou 
*'  wicked  and  slothful  servant,  thou  knewest  (or  knewest  'thou  1) 
"  that  I  reap  where  I  sowed  not,  and  gather  where  I  have  not 
*'  strawed ;  thou  oughtest  therefore  to  have  put  my  money  to 
*'  the  exchangers,  and  then  at  my  coming  I  should  have  receiv- 
"  ed  mine  own  with  usury.  Take  therefore  the  talent  from  him, 
"  and  give  it  unto  him  which  hath  ten  talents  :  for  unto  every 
"  one  that  hath  shall  be  given,  and  he  shall  have  abundance  ; 
"  but  from  him  which  hath  not  shall  be  taken  away  even  that 
'  which  he  hath  ;  and  cast  yc  that  iinprofUahle  servant  into  out- 
"  er  darkness,  there  shall  be  weeping  and  gnashing  of  teeth. '''''^_ 

III.  In  every  question  of  conduct,  where  one  side  is  doubtful, 
and  the  other  side  safe,  we  are  bound  to  take  the  safe  side. 

This  is  best  explained  by  an  instance  ;  and  I  know  of  none 
more  to  our  purpose  than  that  of  suicide.  Suppose,  for  exam- 
ple's sake,  that  it  appear  doubtful  to  a  reasoner  upon  the  sub- 
ject, whether  he  may  lawfully  destroy  himself.  He  can  have 
Jio  doubt  but  that  it  is  lawful  for  him  to  let  it  alone.  Here  there- 
fore is  a  case,  in  which  one  side  is  doubtful,  and  the  other  side 
safe.     By  virtue   therefore  of  our  rule,  he  is  bound  to  pur&!« 

=  ■  1  Pet.  iv,  8.     t  James,  v.  20.     t  Matt.  xxv.  24  Ac 


62  VIRTUE. 

the  safe  side,  that  is,  to  forbear  from  offering  violence  to  himself, 
whilst  a  doubt  remains  upon  his  mind  concerning  the  lawfulness 
of  suicide. 

It  is  prudent,  you  allow,  to  take  the  safe  side.  But  our  6\)- 
scrvaticn  means  something  more.  We  assert  that  (he  action, 
concerning  which  we  doubt,  whatever  it  may  be  in  itself,  or  to  an- 
other,  would,  in  vs,  whilst  this  doubt  remains  upon  our  minds,  be 
certainly  sinful.  The  case  is  expressly  so  adjudged  by  Saint 
Paul,  with  whose  authority  we  will  for  the  present  rest  content- 
ed.— "  I  know  aud  am  persuaded  by  the  Lord  Jesus,  that  there 
"  is  nothing  unclean  of  itself;  but  to  him  that  esteemeth  any  ihing 
**  to  be  unclean,  to  him  it  is  unclean. — Happy  is  he  that  condem- 
"  neth  not  himself  in  that  thing  which  he  allowcth  :  and  he  that 
*'  doubteth  is  damned  (^condemned)  if  he  eat,  for  whatsoever  is 
"  not  of  faith. (?'.  e.  not  done  with  a  full  persuasion  of  the  lawful-r 
"  ness  of  it)  is  sin.'"^ 

*  Rom.  xiy.  14.  22,  23, 


BOOK  II. 


MORAL  OBLIGATION. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  QUESTION,  WHY  AM  I  OBLIGED  TO  KEEP  MY  WORD  ? 
CONSIDERED. 

WHY  am  I  obliged  to  keep  my  word  ? 

Because  it  is  right,  says  one. — Because  it  is  agreeable  to  the 
fitness  of  things,  says  anotiier. — Because  it  is  conformable  to 
reason  and  nature,  says  a  third. — Because  it  is  conformable 
to  truth,  says  a  fourth. — Because  it  promotes  the  public  good, 
says  a  fifth. — Because  it  is  required  by  the  will  of  God,  con» 
eludes  a  sixth. 

Upon  which  different  accounts  two  things  are  observable  :— 

First,  That  they  all  ultimately  coincide. 

The  fitness  of  things,  means  their  fitness  to  produce  happi- 
ness ;  the  nature  of  things,  means  that  actual  constitution  of  the 
world,  by  which  some  things,  as  such  and  such  actions,  for  ex- 
ample, produce  happiness,  and  others  misery  ;  reason  is  th-e 
principle  by  which  we  discover  or  judge  of  this  constitution; 
truth  is  this  judgment  expressed  or  drawn  out  into  propositions. 
So  that  it  necessarily  comes  to  pass,  that  what  promotes  the  pub- 
lic happiness,  or  happiness  upon  the  whole,  is  agreeable  to  the 
fitness  of  things,  to  nature,  to  reason,  and  to  truth  ;  and  such  (as 
will  appear  by-and-by)  is  the  divine  character,  that  what  pro- 


54  MORAL  OBLIGATION. 

molps  the  general  happiness  is  required  by  the  will  of  God,  nnd 
nhat  has  all  the  above  properties,  must  needs  be  right ;  for  right 
means  no  more  than  conformity  to  the  rule  we  go  by,  whatever 
that  rule  be. 

And  this  is  the  reason  that  moralists,  from  whatever  different 
principles  they  set  out,  commonly  meet  in  their  conclusions  ; 
that  is,  they  enjoin  the  same  conduct,  prescribe  the  same  rules 
of  duty,  and,  with  a  few  exceptions,  deliver  upon  dubious  cases, 
the  same  determinations. 

Secondly,  It  is  to  be  observed,  that  these  answers  all  leave 
the  matter  short;  for  the  inquirer  may  turn  round  upon  h\% 
teacher  with  a  .second  question,  in  which  he  will  expect  to  be 
satisfied,  namely,  why  am  I  obliged  to  do  what  is  right  ;  to  act 
agreeably  to  the  fitness  of  things  ;  to  conform  to  reason,  nature 
or  truth  ;  to  promote  the  public  good  ;  or  to  obey  the  will  of 
God? 

The  proper  method  of  conducting  the  inquiry  is,  FrnsT,  To 
examine  what  we  mean,  when  we  say  a  man  is  obliged  to  do  any 
thing;  and  then  to  show  why  he  is  obliged  to  do  the  thing 
which  we  have  proposed  as  an  example,  namely,  "  to  keep  hi? 
word." 


CHAPTER  n. 

WHAT  WE  MEAN  WHEN  WE  SAY  A  MAN  15  OBLIGED  TO  DO 
A  THING. 

A  MAN  is  said  to  be  ohliged^  "  when  he  is  urged  by  a  violent 
*'  motive  resulting  from  the  command  of  another.''^ 

First,  "  The  motive  must  be  violent."  If  a  person,  w!ioh.iR 
done  me  some  little  service,  or  has  a  small  place  in  his  disposal, 
ask  me  for  my  vote  upon  some  occasion,  I  may  possibly  give  it 
him  from  a  motive  of   gratitude  or  expectation  ;  but  I  should 


MORAL  OBLIGATION.  55 

hardly  say  that  I  was  obliged  to  give  it  him,  because  the  induce- 
ment does  not  rise  high  enough.  Whereas,  if  a  father  or  a  mas- 
ter, any  great  benefactor,  or  one  on  whom  my  fortune  depends, 
require  my  vote,  I  give  it  him  of  course  ;  and  my  answer  to  all 
who  ask  me  why  I  voted  so  and  so,  is,  that  ray  father  or  my  mas- 
ter obliged  me  ;  that  I  had  received  so  many  favours  from,  or 
had  so  great  a  dependance  upon  such  a  one,  that  I  was  obliged 
to  vote  as  he  directed  me. 

Secondly,  "  It  must  result  from  the  command  of  another." 
Offer  a  man  a  gratuity  for  doing  any  thing,  for  seizing,  for  ex- 
ample, an  offender,  he  is  not  obliged  by  your  offer  to  do  it ;  nor 
would  he  say  he  is,  though  he  may  be  induced,  persuaded,  pre- 
vailed  upon,  tempted.  If  a  magistrate,  or  the  man's  immediate 
superior,  command  it,  he  considers  himself  as  obliged  to  com- 
ply, though  possibly  he  would  lose  less  by  a  refusal  in  this  case 
than  in  the  former. 
'  I  will  not  undertake  to  say,  that  the  words  ohligatioti  and 
obliged  are  used  uniformly  in  this  sense,  or  always  with  this  dis- 
tinction ;  nor  is  it  possible  to  tie  down  popular  phrases  to  any 
constant  signification  ;  but,  wherever  the  motive  is  violent 
enough,  and  coupled  with  the  idea  of  command,  authority,  law, 
or  the  will  of  a  superior,  there,  I  take  it,  we  ahvays  reckon  our- 
selves to  be  obliged. 

And  from  this  account  of  obligation  it  follows,  that  we  can  be 
obliged  to  nothing  but  what  we  ourselves  are  to  gain  or  lose 
something  by  ;  for  nothing  else  can  be  a  "  violent  motive"  to 
us.  As  we  should  not  be  obliged  to  obey  the  laws,  or  the  ma- 
gistrate, unless  rewards  or  punishments,  pleasure  or  pain,  some- 
how or  other  depended  upon  our  obedience  ;  so  neither  .-should 
we,  without  the  same  reason,  be  obliged  to  do  what  is  right,  to 
practise  virtue,  or  to  obey  the  commands  of  God. 


66  MORAL  OBLIGATION. 


CHAPTER  Ilf. 

TflE  QUESTION,  WHY  AM  I  OBLIGED  TO  KEEP  MY  WORD  ? 
RESUMED. 

LET  it  be  remembered,  tl)at  to  be  obliged,  "  is  to  be  urged 
"  bj  a  violent  motive,  resulting  from  the  command  of  another." 

And  then  let  it  be  asked.  Why  am  I  obliged  to  keep  my  word  ? 
and  the  answer  will  be,  Because  I  am  "  urged  to  do  so  by  a  vi- 
"  olent  motive,"  (namely,  the  expectation  of  being  after  this 
life  rewarded  if  1  do,  or  punished  for  it  if  1  do  not,)  "  resulting 
"  from  the  command  of  another,"  (namely,  of  God.) 

This  solution  goes  to  the  bottom  of  the  subject,  as  no  further 
question  can  reasonably  be  asked. 

Therefore,  private  happiness  is  our  motive,  and  the  will  of 
God  our  rule. 

When  I  first  turned  my  thoughts  to  moral  speculations, 
an  air  of  mystery  seemed  to  hang  over  the  whole  subject  ; 
which  arose,  I  believe,  from  hence,— -that  I  supposed,  with  ma- 
ny authors  whom  I  had  read,  that  to  be  obliged  to  do  a  thing, 
was  very  different  from  being  induced  only  to  do  it  ;  and  that 
the  obligation  to  practise  virtue,  to  do  what  is  right,  just  &c.  was 
quite  another  thing,  and  of  another  kind,  than  the  obligation 
which  a  soldier  is  under  to  obey  his  officer,  a  servant  his  master, 
or  any  of  the  civil  and  ordinary  obligations  of  human  life. 
Whereas  from  what  has  been  said  it  a[qiears,  that  moral  obliga- 
tion is  like  all  other  obligations  ;  and  that  obligation  is  nothing 
more  than  an  inducement  of  sufficient  strength,  and  resulting  in 
someway  from  the  command  of  another. 

There  is  always  understood  to  be  a  difference  between  an  act 
of  prudence  and  an  act  of  duty.  Thus,  if  I  distrusted  a  man 
who  owed  me  money,  I  should  reckon  it  an  act  of  prudence  to 
get  another  bound  with  hin> :  but  1  should  hardly  call  it  an  act 
of  duty.     On  the  other  hand,  it  would  be  tUougbt  a  very  unusual 


MORAL  OBLIGATION.  57 

and  loose  kind  of  language  to  say,  that,  as  1  had  made  such  a 
promise,  it  was  prudent  to  perform  it:  or  that,  as  my  friend, 
when  he  went  abroad,  placed  a  box  of  jewels  in  my  hands,  it 
would  be  prudent  in  me  to  preserve  it  for  him  till  he  returned. 

Now,  in  what,  you  will  ask,  does  the  difference  consist  ?  inas- 
much as,  according  to  our  account  of  the  matter,  both  in  the  one 
case  and  the  other,  in  acts  of  duty  as  well  as  acts  of  prudence, 
we  consider  solely  what  we  shall  gain  or  lose  by  the  act. 

The  difference,  and  the  only  difference,  is  this,  that,  in  the 
one  case,  we  consider  what  we  shall  gain  or  lose  in  the  present 
world  :  in  the  other  case,  we  consider  also  what  we  shall  gain 
or  lose  in  the  world  to  come. 

Those  who  would  establish  a  system  of  morality,  independ- 
ent of  a  future  state,  must  look  out  for  some  different  idea  of 
moral  obligation,  unless  they  can  show  that  virtue  conducts  the 
possessor  to  certain  happiness  in  this  life,  or  to  a  much  greater 
share  of  it  than  he  could  attain  by  a  different  behaviour. 
/    To  us  there  are  two  great  questions  : 

I.  Will  there  be  after  this  life  any  distribution  of  rewards 
and  punishments  at  all  ? 

II.  If  there  be,  what  actions  will  be  rewarded,  and  what  will 
be  punished  ? 

The  first  question  comprises  the  credibility  of  the  Christian 
religion,  together  with  the  presumptive  proofs  of  a  future  retri- 
bution from  the  light  of  nature.  The  second  question  compris- 
es the  province  of  morality.  Both  questions  are  too  much  for 
one  work.  The  affirmative,  therefore,  of  the  first,  although  we 
confess  that  it  is  the  foundation  upon  which  the  whole  fabric 
rests,  must  in  this  treatise  be  taken  for  granted. 


5S  THE  WILL  OF  GOD". 

CHAPTER  IV. 

tHE  WILL  OF  GOD. 

As  the  will  of  God  is  our  rule,  to  inquire  what  is  our  dutj^ 
ill-  what  we  are  obliged  to  do,  in  any  instance,   is,  in   effect,   to 
inquire,  what  is  the  will  of  God  in  that  instance,  which  conse- 
quently becomes  the  whole  business  of  morality. 

Now,  there  are  two  methods  of  coming  at  the  will  of  God  or 
ix\y  point  : 

I,  By"  his  express  declaration?,  when  they  are  to  be  had, 
ivhicb  must  be  sought  for  in  Scripture. 

II.  By  what  we  can  discover  of  his  designs  and  disposition 
from  his  works  ;  or,  as  we  usually  call  it.,  the  light  of  nature. 

And  here  we  may  observe  the  absurdity  of  separating  natural 
and  revealed  religion  from  each  other.  The  object  of  both  is 
the  same,  to  discover  the  will  of  God, — and,  provided  we  do 
but  discover  it,  it  matters  nothing  by  what  means. 

An  ambassador,  judging  only  from  what  he  knows  of  his  sov- 
reign's  disposition,  and  arguing  from  what  he  has  observed  of 
his  conduct,  or  is  acquainted  with  of  his  designs,  may  take  his 
measures  in  many  cases  with  safety,  and  presume  with  great 
probability  how  hi:^  master  would  have  liim  act  on  most  occa- 
sions that  arise  ;  but  if  he  have  his  commission  and  instructions  in 
his  pocket,  it  would  be  strange  never  to  look  into  them.  He 
will  naturally  conduct  himself  by  both  rules  ;  when  his  instruc- 
tions are  clear  and  positive,  there  is  an  end  of  all  farther  deliber- 
ation ;  (unless,  indeed,  he  suspect  their  authenticity  ;)  where  his 
instructions  are  silent  or  dubious,  he  will  endeavour  to  supply 
or  explain  them,  by  what  he  has  been  able  to  collect  from  other 
quarters  of  his  master's  general  inclinations  or  intensions. 

Mr.  Hume,  in  his  fourth  Appendix  to  his  Principles  of  Mor- 
als, has  been  pleased  to  complain  of  the  modern  scheme  of  uni- 


THE  WILL  OF  GOD.  59 

iting  Ethics  with  the  Christian  Theology.  Those  who  find  them- 
selves disposed  to  join  in  this  complaint,  will  do  well  to  observe 
what  Mr.  Hume  himself  has  been  able  to  make  of  morality 
without  this  union.  And  for  that  purpose  let  them  read  tlie  sec- 
ond part  of  the  ninth  section  of  the  above  essay,  which  part 
contains  the  practical  application  of  the  whole  treatise, — a  trea- 
tise, which  Mr.  Hume  declares  to  be  "  incomparably  the  best 
■"  he  ever  wrote."  When  they  have  read  it  over,  let  them  con- 
sider, whether  any  motives  there  proposed  are  likely  to  be 
found  sufficient  to  withhold  men  from  the  gratification  of  lust,  re* 
venge,  envy,  ambition,  avarice,  or  to  prevent  the  existence  of 
these  passions.  Unless  they  rise  up  from  this  celebrated  essay 
with  very  different  impressions  upon  their  minds  than  it  ever  left 
upon  mine,  they  will  acknowledge  the  necessity  of  additjoaal 
sanctions.  But  the  nescssity  of  these  sanctions  is  not  -now  the 
question.  If  they  be  in  fact  established,  if  the  rewards  and 
punishments  held  forth  in  the  Gospel  will  actually  come  to  pass., 
they  must  be  considered.  Those  who  reject  the  Christian  re- 
ligion are  to  make  the  best  shift  they  can  to  fcuild  up  a  system, 
and  lay  the  foundations  of  morality  without  it.  But  it  appears 
to  me  a  great  inconsistency  in  those  who  receive  Christianity, 
and  expect  something  to  come  of  it,  to  endeavor  to  keep  all 
such  expectations  out  of  sight  in  their  reasonings  concerning  hu- 
man duty. 

''  The  method  of  coming  at  the  will  of  God  concerning  ^ny  ac- 
/  tion,  by  the  light  of  nature,  is  to  inquire  into  "  the  tendency  of 
,  "  the  action  to  promote  or  diminish  the  general  happiness." 
This  rule  proceeds  upon  the  presumption,  that  God  Almighty 
wills  and  wishes  the  happiness  of  his  creatures  ;  and,  conse- 
quently, that  those  actions  which  promote  that  will  and  wish, 
must  be  agreeable  to  hina  %  acd  the  contrary. 

As  this  presumptioa  is  tfee  foundation  of  the  whole  system,  5t 
^ecGmes  necessary  to  explain  the  reasons  ppon  which  it  rests 


GO  THE  DIVlf^E  BENEVOLENCE. 

CHAPTER  V. 

THE  DIVINE  BENEVOLENCE. 

When  God  created  the  human  species,  either  b^  wislied 
their  happiness  or  he  wished  their  misery,  or  he  was  iiidifTcrent 
and  unconcerned  about  both. 

If  he  had  wished  our  misery,  he  might  have  made  sure  of  his 
purpose,  hy  forming  our  senses  to  be  as  many  sores  and  pains  to 
us,  as  they  are  now  instruments  of  gratification  and  enjoyment  ; 
or  by  placing  us  amidst  objects  so  ill-suited  to  our  porccj)(ions,  as 
to  have  continually  offended  us,  instead  of  ministering  to  our  re- 
freshment and  delight.  lie  might  have  made,  for  example,  ev- 
ery thing  we  tasted  bitter  ;  every  thing  we  saiv  loathsome  ;  ev- 
ery thing  we  touched  a  sting  ;  every  smell  a  stench  ;  and  every 
sound  a  discord. 

If  he  had  been  indifferent  about  our  happiness  or  misery,  we 
must  impute  to  our  good  fortune,  (as  all  design  by  this  supposi- 
tion is  excluded,)  both  the  capacity  of  our  senses  to  receive 
pleasure,  and  the  supply  of  e.xternal  objects  fitted  to  excite  it. 

But  either  of  these  (and  still  more  both  of  them)  being  too 
much  to  be  attributed  to  accident,  nothing  remains  but  the  first 
supposition,  that  God,  when  he  created  the  human  species,  wish- 
ed their  happiness  ;  and  made  for  them  the  provision  which  he 
has  made,  with  that  view,  and  for  that  purpose. 

The  same  argument  may  be  proposed  in  different  terms,  thus  : 
Contrivance  proves  design  ;  and  the  predominant  tendency  of 
the  contrivance  indicates  the  disposition  of  tlio  designer.  The 
world  abounds  with  contrivances  ;  and  all  the  contrivances  which 
we  are  acquainted  with,  are  directed  to  beneficial  purposes. 
Evil,  no  doubt,  exists  ;  but  it  is  never,  that  we  can  perceive,  the 
object  of  contrivance.  Teeth  are  contrived  to  eat,  not  to  ache  ; 
their  aching  now  and  then,  is  incidental  to  '.he  contrivance,  per* 


THE  DIVINE  BENEVOLENCE.  61 

baps  inseparable  from  it  :  or  even,  if  you  will,  let  it  be  called  a 
defect  in  the  contrivance  ;  but  it  is  not  the  object  of  it.  This  is 
a  distinction  which  well  deserves  to  be  attended  to.  In  describ- 
ing implements  of  husbandry,  you  would  hardly  say  of  a  sickle, 
that  it  is  made  to  cut  the  reaper's  fingers,  though  from  the  con- 
struction of  the  instrument,  and  the  manner  of  using  it,  this  mis- 
chief often  happens.  But  if  you  had  occasion  to  describe  in- 
struments of  torture  or  execution,  this,  you  would  say,  is  to  ex- 
tend the  sinews  ;  this  to  dislocate  the  joints  ;  this  to  break  the 
bones  ;  this  to  scorch  the  soles  of  the  feet.  Here,  pain  and 
misery  are  the  very  objects  of  the  contrivance.  Now,  nothing 
of  this  sort  is  to  be  found  in  the  works  of  nature.  We  never  dis- 
cover a  train  of  contrivance  to  bring  about  an  evil  purpose.  No 
anatomist  ever  discovered  a  system  of  organization  calculated  to 
produce  pain  and  disease  ;  or,  in  explaining  the  parts  of  the  hu- 
man body,  ever  said,  this  is  to  irritate  ;  this  to  inflame  ;  this 
duct  is  to  convey  the  gravel  to  the  kidneys  ;  this  gland  to  secrete 
the  humour  which  forms  the  gout  :  If  by  chance  he  come  at  a 
part  of  which  he  knows  not  the  use,  the  most  he  can  say  is,  that 
it  is  useless  ;  no  one  ever  suspects  that  it  is  put  there  to  incom- 
mode, to  annoy,  or  torment.  Since  then  God  hath  called  forth  his 
consummate  wisdom  to  contrive  and  provide  for  our  happiness, 
and  the  world  appears  to  have  been  constituted  with  this  design 
at  first,  so  long  as  this  constitution  is  upheld  by  him,  we  must 
in  reason  suppose  the  same  design  to  continue. 

The  contemplation  of  universal  nature  rather  bewilders  the 
mind  than  affects  it.  There  is  always  a  briglit  spot  in  the  pros- 
pect, upon  which  the  eye  rests  ;  a  single  example,  perhaps,  by 
which  each  man  finds  himself  more  convinced  than  by  all  others 
put  together.  I  seem,  for  my  own  part,  to  see  the  benevolence 
of  the  Deity  more  clearly  in  the  pleasures  of  very  young  chil- 
dren, than  in  any  thing  in  the  world.  The  pleasures  of  grown 
persons  may  be  reckoned  partly  of  their  own  procuring  ;  e.>pe- 
cially  if  there  has  been  any  industry,  or  contrivance,  or  pursuit, 
to  come  at  them  ;    or  if  they  are  founded,  like  music,  paiiiting, 


G2  UTILITY. 

&c.  upon  any  qualificatiJn  of  their  own  acquiring.  But  tl»e 
pleasures  of  a  healthy  infant  are  so  manifestly  provided  for  it  by 
another,  and  the  benevolence  of  the  provision  is  so  unquestiona- 
ble^ that  every  child  I  see  at  its  sport,  affords  to  my  mind  a  kind 
of  sensible  evidence  of  the  finger  of  God,  and  of  the  disposition 
^vhich  directs  it. 

But  the  example  which  strikes  each  man  most  strongly,  is  the 
true  example  for  him  :  and  hardly  two  minds  hit  upon  the  same  ; 
which  shows  the  abundance  of  such  examples  about  us. 

We  conclude,  therefore,  that  .God  wills  and  wishes  the  hap- 
piness of  his  creatures.  And  this  conclusion  being  once  estab- 
lished, v,e  are  at  liberty  to  go  on  with  the  rule  built  upon  it, 
namely,  "  that  the  method  of  coming  at  the  will  of  God,  con- 
"  cerning  any  action,  by  the  light  o(  nature,  is  to  inquire  into 
"  the  tendency  of  that  action  to  promote  or  diminish  the  general 
"happiness." 


CHAPTER  \I. 

UTILITY. 

SO  then  actions  arc  to  be  estimated  by  (heir  tendency  to  pro- 
fcnote  happiness.*     Whatever  is  expedient  is  right.     It  is  the 

*  Actions  in  the  abstract  are  right  or  wrong:,  according  to  their  tenden- 
cy; the  agent  is  virtuous  or  vicious,  according  to  his  design.  Thus,  if 
the  question  be,  "Whether  relieving  coramoa  beggars  be  right  or  wrong? 
wc  inquire  into  the  tendency  of  such  a  conduct  to  the  public  advantage 
or  incohvenience.  If  the  question  be,  Whether  a  man  remarkable  for 
this  sort  of  bounty  is  to  be  esteemed  virtuous  or  vicious  for  that  reason? 
we  inquire  into  his  design.  Whether  his  liberality  sprung  from  charity  oi 
from  ostentation  ?  It  is  evident  that  our  cencern  is  with  actiens  iji  th* 
abstract. 


UTILITY.  63 

Utility  of  any  moral  rule  alone  which  constitute?  the  obligation 
of  it. 

But  to  all  this  there  seems  a  plain  objection,  viz.  that  many 
actions  are  useful,  which  no  man  in  his  senses  will  allow  to  be 
right.  There  are  occasion?,  in  which  the  hand  of  the  assassin 
would  be  very  useful  : — The  present  possessor  of  some  great 
estate  employs  his  influence  and  fortune  to  annoy,  corrupt,  or 
oppress  all  about  him.  His  estate  would  devolve,  by  his  death, 
to  a  successor  of  an  opposite  character.  It  is  useful,  therefore, 
to  despatch  such  a  one  as  soon  as  possible  out  of  the  way  ;  as 
the  neighbourhood  would  exchange  thereby  a  pernicious  tyrant 
for  a  wise  and  generous  benefactor.  It  may  be  useful  to  rob  a 
miser,  and  give  the  money  to  the  poor  ;  as  the  money,  no  doubt, 
would  produce  more  happiness,  by  being  laid  out  in  food  and 
clothing  for  half  a  dozen  distressed  families,  than  by  continuing 
locked  up  in  a  miser's  chest.  It  may  be  useful  to  get  possession  of 
a  place,  a  piece  of  preferment,  or  of  a  seat  in  Parliament,  by 
bribery  or  false  swearing  ;  as  by  means  of  them  we  may  serve  the 
public  more  effectually  than  in  our  private  station.  What  then 
shall  we  say  ?  Must  we  admit  these  actions  to  be  right,  which 
would  be  to  justify  assassination,  plunder,  and  perjury  ;  or  must 
we  give  up  our  principle,  that  the  criterion  of  right  is  utility  ? 

It  is  not  necessary  to  do  either. 

The  true  answer  is  this  ;  that  these  actions,  after  all,  are  not 
useful,  and  for  that  reason,  and  that  alone,  are  not  right. 

To  see  this  point  perfectly,  il  must  be  observed  that  the  bad 
consequences  of  actions  are  twofold,  particular  and  general. 

The  particular  bad  consequence  of  an  action,  is  the  mischief 
which  that  single  action  directly  and  immediately  occasions. 

The  general  bad  consequence  is,  the  violation  of  some  neces- 
sary or  useful  general  rule. 

Thus,  the  particular  bad  consequence  of  the  assassination 
above  described,  is  the  fright  and  pain  which  the  deceased  un- 
derwent ;  the  loss  he  suffered  of  life,  which  is  as  valuable  to  a 
had  man  as  to  a  good  one,  or  more  so  ;  the  prejudice  and  afflic- 


64  THK  NECESSITY  OF  GENEIIAI.  RULES. 

lion,  of  which  his  death  was  the  occasion,  to  his  family,  friends, 
and  dependants. 

The  general  bad  consequence  is  the  violation  of  this  necessary 
general  rule,  that  no  man  be  put  to  death  for  his  crimes,  but  by 
public  autiu)rity. 

Although,  therefore,  such  an  action  have  no  particular  bad 
consequences,  or  greater  partieular  good  consequences,  yet  it 
is  not  useful,  by  reason  of  the  general  consequence,  Avhich  is  evil, 
and  which  is  of  more  importance.  And  the  same  of  the  other  two 
instances,  aiul  of  a  million  more,  which  might  be  mentioned. 

But  as  this  solution  supposes,  that  the  moral  government  of 
the  world  must  proceed  by  general  rules,  it  remains  that  we 
show  the  necessity  of  this. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  NECESSITY  OF  GENERAL  RULES. 

YOU  cannot  permit  one  action  and  forbid  another,  without 
showing  a  difference  betwixt  them. — Therefore,  the  same  sort 
of  actions  must  be  generally  permitted,  or  generally  forbidden. 
Where,  therefore,  the  general  permission  of  them  would  be  per- 
nicious, it  becomes  necessary  to  lay  down  and  support  the  rule 
which  gem;rally  forbids  them. 

Thus,  to  return  once  more  to  the  case  of  the  assassin.  The 
assassin  knocked  the  rich  villain  on  th;>head,  because  he  thought 
him  better  out  of  the  way  than  in  it.  If  you  allow  this  excuse 
in  the  present  instance,  you  must  allow  it  to  all  who  act  in  the 
same  manner,  and  from  the  same  motive  ;  that  is,  you  must  al- 
low every  man  to  kill  any  one  he  meets,  whom  he  thinks  nox- 
ious or  useless  ;  which,  in  the  event,  would  be  to  commit  every 
man's  life  and  safety  to  the  spleen,  fury,  and  fanatacism  of  his 
mMghI)our  ;  a  disposition  of  affairs  which  would  presently  fill  the 


THE  NtCESSITt  OF  GENERAL  RULES,  65 

woi-ld  with  misery  and  confusion  ;    and  ere  lonij  put  an  end  to 
human  society,  if  not  to  tlie  human  species. 

The  necessity  of  general  rules  in  human  governments  is  ap- 
.  parent  :  but  whether  the  same  necessity  subsist  in  the  Divine 
'  economy,  in  that  distribution  of  rewards  and  punishments  to 
1    which  a  moralist  looks  forward,  may  be  doubted^ 

I  answer,  that  general  I'ules  are  necessary  to  every  moral 
government  :  and  by  moral  government  I  mean  any  dispensation, 
whose  object  is  to  influence  the  conduct  of  reasonable  creatures. 

For  if,  of  two  actions  perfectly  similar,  One  be  punished,  and 
the  other  be  rewarded  or  forgiven,  which  is  the  consequence  of 
rejecting  general  rules,  the  subjects  of  such  a  dispensation  would 
no  longer  know,  either  what  to  expect  or  how  to  act.  Rewards 
and  punishments  would  cease  to  be  such — would  become  acci- 
dents. Like  the  stroke  of  a  thunderbolt,  or  the  discovery  of  a 
mine,  like  a  blank  or  a  benefit  ticket  in  a  lottery,  they  would 
occasion  pain  or  pleasure  when  they  happened  ;  but,  following  in 
no  known  order,  from  any  particular  course  of  action,  thejr 
could  have  no  previous  influence  or  eflect  upon  the  conduct. 

An  attention  to  general  rules,  therefore,  is  included  in  the 
rery  idea  of  reward  and  punishment.  Consequently,  whatever 
reason  there  is  to  expect  future  reward  and  punishment  at  the 
hand  of  God,  there  is  the  same  reason  to  believe,  that  he  will 
proceed  in  the  distribution  of  it  by  general  rules. 

Before  we  prosecute  the  consideration  of  general  conse- 
quences any  further,  it  may  be  proper  to  anticipate  a  reflection, 
which  will  be  apt  enough  to  suggest  itself,  in  the  progress  of  our 
argument. 

As  the  general  consequence  of  an  action,  upon  which  so  much 
of  the  guilt  of  a  bad  action  depends,  consists  in  the  example  ;  it 
should  seem,  that  if  the  action  be  done  with  perfect  secrecy,  so 
as  to  furnish  no  bad  example,  that  part  of  the  guilt  drops  off. 
In  the  case  of  suicide,  for  instance,  if  a  man  can  so  manage  matters 
as  to  take  away  his  own  life,  without  being  known  or  suspected 
9 


66  TilE  NECESSITY  OF  GENERAL  RULES. 

to  have  done  if,  lie  is  not  chargeable  with  any  mischief  from  the 
example;  nor  does  his  punishment  seem  necessary,  in  order  to 
save  the  authority  of  any  general  rule. 

In  the  ,^rs^  place,  those  who  reason  in  this  manner  do  not 
observe,  that  they  are  setting  up  a  general  rule  of  all  others  the 
least  to  be  endured ;  namely,  that  secrecy,  whenever  secrecy 
is  practicable,  will  justify  any  action. 

Were  such  a  rule  admitted,  for  instance,  in  the  case  above  pro- 
duced, is  there  not  reason  to  fear  that  people  would  be  diaap-^ 
pearing  perpetually  ? 

In  the  next  place,  I  would  wish  them  to  be  well  satisfied 
about  the  points  proposed  in  the  following  queries  : 

1.  Whether  the  Scriptures  do  not  teach  us  to  expect  that  at 
the  general  judgment  of  the  <vorld,  the  most  secret  actions  will 
be  brought  to  light  ?* 

2.  For  what  purpose-  can  this  be,  but  to  make  them  the  ob- 
jects of  reward  and  punishment  ? 

3.  Whether,  being  so  brought  to  light,  they  will  not  fall  un- 
der the  operation  of  those  equal  and  impartial  rules,  by  which 
God  will  deal  with  his  creatures  ? 

They  will  then  become  examples,  whatever  they  be  now  ; 
and  require  the  same  treatment  from  the  Judge  and  Governor  of 
the  moral  world,  as  if  they  had  been  detected  from  the  first. 

*"Iathe  day  when  God  shall  judg^e  the  secrets  of  men  by  Jesus 
*«  Christ."  Rom.  xi.  16. — "Judge  notliing  before  the  time,  until  the 
"  Lord  come,  who  will  bring  to  light  the  hidden  things  of  darkness,  anol 
^^will  make  maoifest  the  couoieU  of  the  heart."  1  Cor.  ir.  5^ 


GENERAL  CONSEQUENCES.  «•? 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  CONSIDERATION  OF  GENERAL  CONSEQUENCES 
PURSUED. 

/  THE  general  consequence  of  any  action  may  be  estimated, 
hy  asking  what  would  be  the  consequence  if  the  same  sort  of 
actions  were  generally  permitted. — But  suppose  they  were,  and 
a  thousand  such  actions  perpetrated  under  this  permission,  is  it 
just  to  charge  a  single  action  with  the  collected  guilt  and  mis- 
chief of  the  whole  thousand  ?  I  answer,  that  the  reason  for 
prohibiting  and  punishing  an  action,  (and  this  reason  may  be 
called  the  guilt  of  the  action,  if  you  please,)  w^ill  always  be  in 
proportion  to  the  whole  mischief  that  would  arise  from  the  gener- 
al impunity  and  toleration  of  actions  of  the  same  sort. 

"  Whatever  is  expedient  is  right."  But  then  it  must  be  ex- 
pedient upon  the  whole,  at  the  long  run,  in  all  its  effects  collat- 
tez'al  and  remote,  as  well  as  in  those  which  are  immediate  and 
direct  ;  as  it  is  obvious,  that,  in  computing  consequences,  it 
makes  no  difference  in  what  way,  or  at  what  distance,  they 
ensue. 

To  impress  this  doctrine  upon  the  minds  of  young  readers, 
and  to  teach  them  to  extend  their  views  beyond  the  immediate 
mischief  of  a  crime,  I  shall  here  subjoin  a  string  of  instances, 
in  which  the  particular  consequence  is  comparatively  insignifi- 
cant, and  v\'here  the  malignity  of  the  crime,  and  the  severity 
with  which  human  laws  pursue  it,  is  almost  entirely  founded  up- 
on the  general  consequence. 

The  particular  consequence  of  coining  is,  the  loss  of  a  guin- 
ea, or  of  half  a  guinea,  to  the  person  who  receives  the  counter- 
feit money  :  the  general  consequence  (by  which  I  mean  the 
consequence  that  would  ensue,  if  the  same  practice  were  gener- 
?ilJy  permitted,)  is.  to  abolish  Ibe  use  of  money. 


68  THE  CONSIDERATION  OF 

The  particular  consequence  of  forgery  is,  a  damage  of  tucnty 
or  thirty  pounds  to  the  man  who  accepts  the  forged  bill :  the 
general  consequence  is,  the  stoppage  of  paper  currency. 

The  particular  consequence  of  sheep-stealing  or  horse-steal- 
ing is,  a  loss  to  the  owner,  to  the  amount  of  the  value  of  the 
sheep  or  horse  stolen  :  the  general  consequence  is,  that  the  land 
could  not  be  occupied,  nor  the  market  supplied  with  this  kind 
of  stock. 

The  particular  consequence  of  breaking  into  a  house  empty 
of  inhabitants  is,  the  loss  of  a  pair  of  silver  candle-sticks,  or  a 
few  spoons  :  the  general  consequende  is,  that  nobody  could  leave 
their  house  empty. 

The  particular  consequence  of  smuggling  may  be  a  deduc- 
tion from  the  national  fund  too  minute  for  computation  :  the  gen- 
eral consequence  is,  the  destruction  of  one  entire  branch  of  pub- 
lic revenue,  a  proportionable  increase  of  the  burthen  upon  other 
branches,  and  the  ruin  of  all  fair  and  open  trade  in  the  article 
smuggled. 

The  particular  consequence  of  an  officer's  breaking  his  parole 
is,  the  loss  of  a  prisoner,  who  was  possibly  not  worth  keeping  ; 
the  general  consequence  is,  that  this  mitigation  of  captivity 
would  be  refused   to  all  others. 

And  what  proves  incontestabl}-^  the  superior  importance  of 
general  consequences  is,  that  crimes  are  the  same,  and  treat- 
ed in  the  same  manner,  though  the  particular  consequence  be 
very  different.  The  crime  and  fate  of  the  house-breaker  is  the 
same,  whether  his  booty  be  five  pounds  or  fifty.  And  the  reason 
is,  that  the  general  consequence  is  the  same. 

The  want  of  this  distinction  between  particular  and  general 
consequences,  or  rather  the  not  sufficiently  attending  to  the  latter, 
is  the  cause  of  that  perplexity  we  meet  with  in  ancient  moral- 
ists. On  the  one  hand,  they  were  sensible  of  the  absurdity  of 
pronouncing  actions  good  or  evil,  without  regard  to  the  good  or 
evil  they  produced.  On  the  other  hand,  they  were  startled  at 
the  conelusions  to  which  a  steady  adherence  to  the  consequences 


GENERAL  CONSEQUENCES  PURSUED.  69 

seemed  sometimes  to  conduct  them.  To  relieve  this  difficulty, 
they  contrived  the  ro  ■srpsTs-ov  or  the  honestum,  by  which  terms 
they  meant  to  constitute  a  measure  of  right,  distinct  from  utility. 
Whilst  the  utile  served  them,  t^at  is,  whilst  it  corresponded  with 
their  habitual  notions  of  the  rectitude  of  actions,  they  went  by  it. 
When  they  fell  in  with  such  cases  as  those  mentioned  in  the  sixth 
chapter,  they  took  leave  of  their  guid«,  and  resorted  to  the  ho- 
nestum. The  only  account  they  could  give  of  the  matter  was, 
that  these  actions  might  be  useful  :  but,  because  they  were  not 
at  the  same  time  honesta,  they  were  by  no  means  to  be  deemed 
just  or  right. 

From  the  principles  delivered  in  this  and  the  two  preceding 
chapters,  a  maxim  may  be  explained,  which  is  in  every  man's 
mouth,  and  in  most  men's  without  meaning;  viz.  "not  to  do 
"  evil,  that  good  may  come  :"  that  is,  let  us  not  violate  a  general 
rule,  for  the  sake  of  any  particular  good  consequence  we  may 
expect.  Which  is  for  the  most  part  a  salutary  caution,  the  ad- 
vantage seldom  compensating  for  the  violation  of  the  rule. 
Strictly  speaking,  that  cannot  be  "  evil,"  from  which  "good 
"  comes  ;"  but  in  this  way,  and  with  a  view  to  the  distinction 
between  particular  and  general  consequences,  it  may. 

We  will  conclude  this  subject  of  consequences  with  the  follow- 
ing reflection  :  A  man  may  imagine,  that  any  action  of  his,  with 
respect  to  the  public,  must  be  inconsiderable  ;  so  also  is  the 
agent.  If  his  crime  produce  but  a  small  effect  upon  the  «?!?'- 
versal  interest,  his  punishment  or  destruction  bears  a  small  pro- 
portion to  the  sum  of  happiness  and  misery  in  the  creation-   ' 


9«  OF  RIGHT. 

CHAPTER  IX. 

OF  RIGHT. 

RIGHT  and  obligation  are  reciprocal  ;  that  is,  wherever 
there  is  a  right  in  one  person,  there  is  a  corresponding  obliga- 
tion upon  others.  If  one  man  has  a  "  right"  to  an  estate,  others 
are  "obliged"  to  abstain  from  it  :  if  parents  have  a  "right"  to 
reverence  from  their  children,  children  are  "obliged"  to  rcv> 
erence  their  parents  ;  and  so  in  all  other  instances. 

Now,  because  moral  obligation  depends,  as  we  have  seen,  up- 
on the  will  of  God,  right,  which  is  correlative  to  it,  must  depend 
upon  the  same.  Right  therefore  signifies  the  being  consistent  with 
the  will  of  God. 

If  the  divine  will  determines  the  distinction  of  right  and 
wrong,  what  else  is  it  but  an  identical  proposition,  to  say  of  God, 
that  he  acts  right?  or  how  is  it  possible  even  to  conceive  that 
he  should  act  wrong  ?  Yet  these  assertions  are  intelligible  and 
significant.  The  case  is  this  :  By  virtue  of  the  two  principles, 
that  God  wills  the  happiness  of  his  creatures,  and  that  the  will  of 
God  is  the  measure  of  right  and  wrong,  we  arrive  at  certain  conclu- 
sions ;  which  conclusions  become  rules  ;  and  we  soon  learn  to 
pronounce  actions  right  or  wrong,  according  as  they  agree  or  disa- 
gree with  our  rules,  without  looking  any  further  :  and  when  the 
habit  is  uuce  established  of  stopping  at  the  rules,  we  can  go  back 
and  compare  with  these  rules  even  the  divine  conduct  itself ;  and 
yet  it  may  be  true,  (only  not  observed  by  us  at  the  time,)  that 
the  rules  themselves  are  deduced  from  the  divine  will. 

Right  is  a  ([uality  of  persons  or  of  actions. 

Of  persons ;  as  when  we  say,  such  a  one  has  a  "  right"  t9 
this  estate  ;  parents  have  a  "  right"  to  reverence  from  their 
children  ;  the  king  to  allegiance  from  his  subjects  ;  masters  have 
a  "right"  to  their  servant's  labour;  a  man  has  not  a  "  right" 
over  his  own  life. 


THE  DIVISIOx^  or  RIGHTS.  71 

Of  actions  ;  as  in  such  expressions  as  the  following :  it  is 
"right"  to  punish  murder  with  death  ;  his  behaviour  on  that  oc- 
casion was '*  right;"  it  is  not  "right"  to  send  an  unfortunate 
debtor  to  gaol ;  he  did  or  acted  "  right,"  who  gave  up  his  place, 
rather  than  vote  against  his  judgment. 

In  this  latter  set  of  expressions,  you  may  substitute  the  def- 
inition of  right  above  given  for  the  term  itself;  v.  g.  it  is  "  con- 
*'  sistent  with  the  will  of  God"  to  punish  murder  with  death  ; — 
his  behaviour  on  that  occasion  was  "  consitent  with  the  will  of 
**God  ;" — it  is  not  "consistent  with  the  will  of  God"  to  send 
an  unfortunate  debtor  to  gaol ; — he  did,  or  acted  "  consist- 
"  ently  with  the  will  of  God,"  who  gave  up  his  place  rather 
than  vote  against  his  judgment. 

In  the  former  set  you  must  vary  the  phrase  a  little,  when  yoQ 
introduce  the  definition  instead  of  the  term.  Such  a  one  has  a 
"  right"  to  this  estate,  that  is,  it  is  "  consistent  with  the  will  of 
*'God"  that  such  a  one  should  have  it ; — parents  have  a  "right" 
to  reverence  from  their  children,  that  is,  it  is  "  consistent  with 
"  the  will  of  God"  that  children  should  reverence  their  pa- 
rents ; — and  the  same  of  the  rest. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  DIVISION  OF  RIGHTS, 

RIGHTS,  when  applied  to  persons,  are 

Natural  or  adventitious  : 

Alienable  or  unalienable : 

Perfect  or  imperfect. 
I.  Rights  are  natural  or  adventitious. 

Natural  rights  are  such  as  would  belong  to  a  man,  althoagfe 
there  subsisted  in  the  world,  no  civil  government  whatever. 


72  THE  DIVISION  OF  RIGHTS. 

Adventitious  rights  are  such  as  would  not. 

JVatural  rights  are,  a  man's  right  to  his  life,  limbs,  and  liber 
tj  ;  his  right  to  the  produce  of  his  personal  labour  ;  to  the  use  in 
common  with  others,  of  air,  light,  water.  If  a  thousand  differ- 
ent persons,  from  a  thousand  different  corners  of  the  world,  were 
cast  together  upon  a  desert  island,  they  would  from  the  first  be 
every  one  entitled  to  these  rights. 

Adventitious  rights  are,  the  right  of  a  king  over  his  subjects  ; 
of  a  general  over  his  soldiers  ;  of  a  judge  over  the  life  and  lib- 
erty of  a  prisoner ;  a  right  to  elect  or  appoint  magistrates,  to 
impose  taxes,  decide  disputes,  direct  the  descent  or  disposi- 
tion of  property  :  a  right,  in  a  word,  in  any  one  man,  or  partic- 
ular body  of  men,  to  make  laws  and  regulations  for  the  rest. 
For  none  of  these  rights  would  exist  in  the  newly  inhabited 
island.  ., 

And  here  it  will  be  asked  how  adventitious  rights  are  created  ; 
or,  which  is  the  same  thing,  how  any  new  rights  can  accrue  from 
the  establishment  of  civil  society  ?  as  rights  of  all  kinds,  we  re- 
member, depend  upon  the  will  of  God,  and  civil  society  is  but 
the  ordinance  and  institution  of  man.  For  the  solution  of  this 
difficulty,  we  must  return  to  our  first  principles.  God  wills  the 
happiness  of  mankind,  and  the  existence  of  civil  society,  as 
conducive  to  that  happiness.  Consequently,  many  things,  which 
are  useful  for  the  support  of  civil  society  in  general,  or  for  the 
conduct  and  conservation  of  particular  societies  already  estab- 
lished, are,  for  that  reason,  "  consistent  with  the  will  of  God," 
or  "  right,"  which,  without  that  I'eason,  i.  e.  without  the  estab- 
lishment of  civil  society,  would  not  have  been  so. 

From  whence  also  it  appears,  that  adventitious  rights,  though 
immediately  derived  from  human  appointment,  are  not,  for  that 
reason,  less  sacred  than  natural  rights,  nor  the  obligation  to  res- 
pect them  less  cogent.  They  both  ultimately  rely  upon  the 
same  authority,  the  will  ofGod.  Such  a  man  claims  a  right  to 
a  particular  estate.  He  can  show,  it  is  true,  nothing  for  his 
right,  but  a  rule  of  the  civil  community  to  which  he  belongs ; 


I'fiE  Division  of  rights.  73 

snd  this  rule  may  be  arbitrary,  capricious,  and  absurd.  Not- 
withstanding all  this,  there  would  be  the  i^aine  sin  in  disposses- 
■iing  the  man  of  his  estate  by  craft  or  violence,  as  if  it  had  been 
assigned  to  hiin,  iilie  the  partition  of  the  country  amongst  the 
the  twelve  tribes,  by  the  immediate  designation  and"  appoint- 
ment of  Heaven. 

H.   Rights  are  alienable  or  unalienable. 

Which  terms  explain  themselves. 

The  right  we  have  to  most  of  those  th'ngs  which  ^ve  call  pi^p- 
erty,  as  houses,  lands,  money,  &c.  is  alienable. 

The  right  of  a  prince  over  his  jieople,  of  a  husband  over  his 
wife,  of  a  master  over  his  servants,  is  generally  and  naturally 
Hnalienable. 

The  distinction  depends  upon  the  mode  of  acquiring  the  right. 
If  the  right  originate  from  a  contract  and  be  limited  to  the  per- 
son by  the  express  terms  of  the  contract,  or  by  the  common  in- 
terpretation of  such  contracts,  (which  is  equivalent  to  an  express 
stipulation,)  or  by  a  pergonal  condition  annexed  to  the  right : 
then  it  is  unalienable.     In  all  other  cases,  it  is  alienable. 

The  right  to  civil  liberty  is  alienable  ;  though,  in  the  vehe- 
mence of  men's  zeal  for  it,  and  in  the  language  of  some  [)olitical 
remonstrances,  it  has  often  been  pronounced  to  be  an  unalienable 
right.  The  true  reason  why  mankind  hold  in  detestation  the 
memory  of  those  who  have  sold  their  liberty  to  a  tyrant,  is,  that, 
together  with  their  own,  they  sold  commonly,  or  endangered, 
the  liberty  of  others  ;  which  certainly  they  had  no  right  to  dis- 
pose of. 

III.  Rights  are  perfect  or  imperfect. 

Perfect  rights  may  be  asserted  by  force,  or,  what  in  civil  soci- 
ety comes  into  the  place  of  private  force,  by  course  of  law. 

Imperfect  rights  may  not. 

Examples  of  perfect  rights. — A  man's  right  to  his  life,  person, 
house  ;  for,  if  these  be  attacked,  he  may  repel  the  attack  by  in- 
stant violence,  or  punish  the  aggressor  by  law  :  a  man's  right  to 
hi?  estate,  furniture,  clothes,  money,  and  to  all  ordinary  articles 
10 


71  TIIK  DI\  ISION  OP  RIGH1;<. 

vi  proporty  ;  for,  if  tlicy  lie  iiijiirioiisly  taken  from  hin),  lie  may 
compel  the  author  of  the  injiiry  to  make  restitution  or  satisfaction. 

Examples  of  imperfect  rights. — In  elections  or  a'ppoinlmonls 
to  offices,  where  the  qualifications  are  prescribed,  the  best  qual- 
ified candidate  Iws  a  right  to  success  ;  yet,  if  he  be  rejected,  he 
has  no  remedy.  lie  can  neither  seize  the  office  by  ibrce,  nor 
obtain  redress  at  law  ;  his  right  tlierefore  is  imperfect.  A  poor 
ncigh!)our  has  a  right  to  relief;  yet,  if  it  be  refused  him,  he 
must  not  extort  it.  A  benetactor  has  a  right  to  returns  of  grati- 
tude from  the  person  he  has  obliged  ;  yet,  if  he  meet  with  none, 
he  must  acquiesce.  Children  have  a  right  to  affection  and  edu- 
cation from  their  parents  ;  and  jiorents,  on  tl^eir  part,  to  duly 
and  reverence  from  their  children  ;  yet,  if  these  rights  be  on  ei- 
ther side  withholden,  there  is  no  compulsion  to  enforce  them. 

It  may  be  at  first  view  difficult  to  apprehend  how  a  person  should 
have  a  right  to  a  thing,  and  yet  have  no  right  to  use  the  means  ne- 
cessary to  obtain  it.  This  difficulty,  like  most  others  in  morality, 
is  resolvable  into  the  necessity  of  general  rules.  The  reader 
recollects,  that  a  person  is  said  to  have  a  "  right"  to  a  thing, 
when  it  is  "  consistent  with  the  will  of  God"'  that  he  should  pos- 
sess it.  So  that  the  question  is  reduced  to  this  ;  how  it  comes 
to  pass  that  it  should  be  consistent  with  the  will  of  God  that  a 
person  should  possess  a  thing,  and  yet  not  be  consistent  with  the 
same  will  that  he  should  use  force  to  obtain  it  ?  The  answer  is, 
that  the  permission  of  force  in  this  case,  because  of  the  indeter- 
niinatcness  either  of  the  object,  or  of  the  circumstances  of  the 
right,  would,  in  its  consequence,  lead  to  the  permission  of  force 
in  other  cases,  where  there  existed  no  right  at  all.  The  candi- 
date above  described  has,  no  doubt,  a  right  to  success  ;  but  hi* 
right  depends  upon  his  qualifications,  for  instance,  upon  his  com- 
parative virtue,  learning,  ^c.  ;  there  must  be  somebody  there- 
fore to  compare  them.  The  existence,  degree,  and  respective 
importance  of  these  qualifications,  are  all  indeterminate  :  there 
must  be  somebody  therefore  to  determine  them.     To  allow  ths 


THE  DIVISION  OF  RIGHTS.  7S 

candidate  to  demand  success  by  force,  is  to  make  liim  the  jiulge 
of  his  own  qualifications.  You  cannot  do  this,  but  you  must  make 
all  other  candidates  the  same  ;  wiiich  would  open  a  door  to  de- 
mands without  number,  reason,  or  right.  In  like  manner,  a  poor 
man  has  a  right  to  relief  from  the  rich  ;  but  the  mode,  season., 
and  quantum  of  that  relief,  who  shall  contribute  to  it,  or  how 
much,  are  not  ascertained.  Yet  these  points  must  be  ascertnin- 
ed,  before  a  claim  to  relief  can  be  prosecuted  by  force.  For, 
to  allow  the  poor  to  ascertain  them  for  themselves,  would  be  to 
expose  property  to  so  many  of  these  claims,  that  it  would  lose 
its  value,  or  cease  indeed  to  be  property.  The  same  observa- 
tion holds  of  all  other  cases  of  imperfect  rights  ;  not  to  mention 
that  in  the  instances  of  gratitude,  affection,  reverence,  and  the 
like,  force  is  excluded  by  the  very  idea  of  the  duty,  which  must 
be  voluntary,  or  not  at  all. 

Wherever  the  right  is  imperfect,  the  corresponding  obligation 
must  be  so  too.  1  am  obliged  to  prefer  the  best  candidate,  to 
relieve  the  poor,  be  grateful  to  my  benefactors,  take  care  of  my 
children,  and  reverence  my  pareiats  ;  but  in  all  these  cases,  my 
obligation,  like  their  right,  is  imperfect. 

I  call  these  obligations  "  imperfect,"  in  conformity  to  the  es- 
tablished language  of  writers  upon  the  subject.  The  term,  how- 
ever, seems  ill  chosen  on  this  account,  that  it  leads  many  to  im- 
agine, that  there  is  less  guilt  in  the  violation  of  an  imperfect  ob- 
ligation than  of  a  perfect  one.  Which  is  a  groundless  notion. 
For  an  obligation  being  perfect  or  imperfect,  determines  only 
whether  violence  may  or  may  not  be  employed  to  enforce  it ; 
and  determines  nothing  else.  The  degree  of  guilt  incurred  by 
violating  the  obligation  is  a  different  thing,  and  is  determined  by 
circumstances  altogether  independent  of  this  distinction.  A  man 
who  by  a  partial,  prejudiced,  or  corrupt  vote,  disappoints  a  wor- 
thy candidate  of  a  station. in  life,  upon  which  his  hopes,  possiblj, 
or  livelihood  depend,  and  thereby  discourages  merit  and  emula- 
tion in  others,  incurs,  I  am  persuaded,  a  much  greater  crime 
than  if  he  had  filched  a  book  out  of  a  library,  or  picked  a  pock- 


16  THE  GENERAL  RIGHTS 

et  of  a  handkercliief,  though  in  the  one  case  he  violates  only  an 
imperfect  right,  in  the  other  a  perfect  one. 

As  positive  precepts  are  often  irideternjinate  in  their  extent, 
and  as  the  indeterminateness  of  an  obligation  is  that  uhich  makes 
it  imperfect,  it  comes  to  pass,  that  positive  precepts  commonly 
produce  an  imperfect  obligation. 

Negative  precepts  or  prohibitions,  being  generally  precise^ 
constitute  accordingly  a  perfect  obligation. 

The  fifth  commandment  is  positive,  and  the  duty  which  re- 
eults  from  it  is  imperfect. 

The  sixth  commandment  is  negative,  and  imposes  a  perfect 
obligation. 

Religion  and  virtue  find  their  principal  exercise  amongst  the 
imperfect  obligations,  the  laus  of  civil  society  taking  pretty 
good  care  of  the  rest. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE  GENERAL  RIGHTS  OP^  MANKIND. 

BY  the  General  Rights  of  Mankind,  I  mean  the  rights  which 
belong  to  the  species  collectively,  the  original  stock,  as  I  may 
say,  which  they  have  since  distributed  among  themselves. 

These  are, 

1.  A  right  to  the  fruits  or  vegetable  produce  of  the  earth. 

The  insensible  parts  of  the  creation  are  incapable  of  injury  ; 
and  it  is  nugatory  to  inquire  into  the  right,  where  the  use  can  be 
attended  with  no  injury.  But  it  may  be  worth  observing,  for 
the  sake  of  an  inference  which  will  appear  below,  that,  as  God 
has  created  us  with  a  want  and  desire  of  food,  and  provided 
things  suited  by  their  nature  to  sustain  and  satisfy  us,  we  may 
fairly  presume,  that  he  intended  we  should  apply  them  to  that 
purpose. 


OF  MANKIND.  77 

IT.  A  right  to  the  flesh  of  animals. 

This  is  a  very  different  claim  from  the  former.  Some  excuse 
seems  necessary  for  the  pain  and  loss  which  we  occasion  to- 
brutes,  by  restraining  them  of  their  liberty,  mutilating  their  bod- 
ies, and  at  last  putting  an  end  to  their  lives,  which  we  sup- 
pose to  be  their  all,  for  our  pleasure  or  conveniency. 

The  reasons  alleged  in  vindication  of  this  practice,  are  the 
following  :  that  the  several  species  of  brutes  being  created  toi 
prey  upon  one  another,  affords  a  kind  of  analogy  to  prove  that 
the  human  species  were  intended  to  feed  upon  them  ;  that,  if 
let  alone,  they  would  overrun  the  earth,  and  exclude  mankind 
from  the  occupation  of  it  ;  that  they  are  requited  for  what  they 
suffer  at  our  hands,  by  our  care  and  protection. 

Upon  which  reasons  I  would  observe,  that  the  analogy  con- 
tended for  is  extremely  lame  ;  since  brutes  have  no  power  to  sup- 
port life  by  any  other  means,  and  since  we  have  ;  for  the  whole 
human  species  might  subsist  entirely  ujion  fruit,  pulse,  herbs,  and 
roots,  as  many  tribes  of  Hindoos  actually  do.  The  two  other 
I'easons  may  be  valid  reasons,  as  far  as  they  go  ;  for,  no  doubt, 
if  man  had  been  supported  entirely  by  vegetable  food,  a  great 
part  of  those  animals  which  die  to  furnish  his  table,  would  never 
have  lived  :  but  they  by  no  means  justify  our  right  over  the  lives 
of  brutes  to  the  extent  in  which  we  exercise  it.  What  danger  is 
there,  for  instance,  of  tish  interfering  with  us,  in  the  use  of  their 
element  ?  or  what  do  we  contribute  to  their  support  or  preserva- 
tion ? 

It  seems  to  me,  that  it  would  bo  difficult  to  defend  this  right 
by  any  arguments  which  the  light  and  order  of  nature  afford  ; 
and  that  we  are  beholden  for  it  to  the  permission  recorded  in 
Scripture,  Gen.  ix.  1,  2,  3:  "And  God  blessed  Noah  and  his 
"  sons,  and  said  unto  them,  Be  fruitful  and  multiply,  and  re- 
"  plenish  the  earth  :  and  the  fear  of  you,  and  the  dread  of  you, 
"  shall  be  upon  every  beast  of  the  earth,  and  upon  every  fowl 
"  of  the  air,  and  upon  all  that  moveth  upon  the  earth,  and  upon 
"  all  the  fishes  of  the  sea  ;  into  your  hand  are  they  delivered  : 


78  Tilt:  GENERAL  RIGHTS 

'*  Every  moving  thing  bliall  be  meat  for  you  ;  even  as  the  "  grceij 
•'  hirb,  have^  i  given  you  all  things."  To  Adam  and  his  [los- 
terity  had  been  granted,  at  the  creation,  "every  green  herb  for 
*'  meat,"  and  nothing  more.  In  the  last  clause  of  the  passage 
pow  produced,  the  old  grant  is  recited,  and  extended  to  the  flesh 
of  animals  ;  "  even  as  the  green  herb,  have  1  given  you  all 
"  things."  But  this  was  not  till  after  the  flood  ;  the  inhabitants 
of  the  antediluvian  world  had  therefore  no  such  permission,  that 
we  know  of.  Whether  they  actually  nfraiiicd  iVom  the  flesh  of 
animals,  is  another  question.  Abel,  we  read,  was  a  keeper  of 
sheep  ;  and  for  what  purpose  he  kept  them,  but  for  food,  is  dif- 
ficult to  say,  (unless  it  were  for  sacrifices  :)  Might  not,  howev- 
er, some  of  the  stricter  sects  among  the  antediluvians  be  scru- 
pulous as  to  this  point?  and  might  not  ISoah  and  his  family  be 
i)f  this  description  ?  for  it  is  not  probable  that  God  would  pub- 
lish a  permission,  to  authorize  a  practice  which  had  never  been 
disputed. 

Wanton,  and,  what  is  worse,  studied  cruelty  to  brutes,  is  cer- 
tainly wrong,  as  coming  within  none  of  these  reasons. 

From  reason,  then,  or  revelation,  or  from  both  together,  it  ap- 
pears to  be  God  Alniighly's  intention,  that  the  productions  of  the 
earth  should  be  ajjplied  to  the  suslenlalion  of  human  life.  Con- 
sequently all  waste  and  misapplication  of  these  productions  is 
contrary  to  the  divine  intention  and  will  ;  and  therefore  wrong, 
for  the  same  reason  that  any  other  crime  is  so.  Such  as  what 
js  related  of  William  the  Cunijueror^  the  converting  of  twenty 
manoi's  into  a  forest  for  hunting,  or,  what  is  not  much  better,  suf- 
fering them  to  continue  in  that  state  ;  or  the  letting  of  large  tracts 
of  land  lie  barren,  because  the  owner  cannot  cultivate  them,  no^ 
will  part  with  them  to  those  who  can  ;  or  destroying,  or  suffer- 
ing to  perish,  great  part  of  an  article  of  human  provision,  in  or- 
der to  enhance  the  price  of  the  reniaiiidcr  ;  (which  is  said  to 
have  been,  till  lately,  the  case  with  fish  caught  upon  the  En- 
glish coast;)  or  diminishing  the  breed  of  animale,  by  a  wanton 


OF  MANKIND.  79* 

•31"  improvident  consumption  of  the  young,  as  of  the  spawiTof 
shell-fish,  or  the  fry  of  salmon,  by  the  use  of  unlawful  nets,  or  at 
improper  seasons:  to  this  head  may  also  be  referred,  what  is 
the  same  evil  in  a  smaller  way,  the  expending  of  human  food  on 
superfluous  dogs  or  horses  ;  and,  lastly,  the  reducing  of  the  quan- 
tity, in  order  to  alter  the  quality,  and  to  alter  it  generally  for 
the  worse  ;  as  the  distillation  of  spirits  from  bread  corn,  the 
boiling  down  of  solid  meat  for  sauces,  essences,  &c. 

This  seems  to  be  the  lesson  which  our  Saviour,  after  his  man- 
ner, inculcates,  when  he  bids  his  disciples  "gather  up  the  frag- 
*'  ments,  that  nothing  be  lost."  And  it  opens  indeed  a  new  field 
of  duty.  Schemes  oi'  wealth  or  profit  prompt  the  active  part  of 
mankind  to  cast  about,  how  they  may  convert  their  property  to 
the  most  advantage  ;  and  their  own  advantage,  and  that  of  the 
public,  commonly  concur.  But  it  has  not  as  yet  entered  into 
the  minds  of  mankind  to  reflect,  that  it  is  a  duty  to  add  what  we 
can  to  the  common  stock  of  provision,  by  extracting  out  of  our  es- 
tates the  most  they  will  yield  ;  or  that  it  is  any  sin  to  neglect  this. 

From  the  same  intention  of  God  Almighty,  we  also  deduce 
another  conclusion,  namely,  "  that  nothing  ought  to  be  made 
'*  exclusive  property  which  can  be  conveniently  enjoyed  in 
"  common." 

It  is  the  general  intention  of  God  Almighty,  that  the  produce 
of  the  earth  be  applied  to  the  use  of  man.  This  appears  from 
the  constitution  of  nature,  or,  if  you  will,  from  his  express  decla- 
ration ;  and  this  is  all  that  appears  hitherto.  Under  this  gener- 
al donation,  one  man  has  the  same  right  as  another.  You  pluck 
an  apple  from  a  tree,  or  take  a  lamb  out  of  a  flock,  for  your  im- 
mediate use  and  nourishment,  and  I  do  the  same  ;  and  we  botb 
plead  for  Avhat  we  do,  the  general  intention  of  the  Supreme  Pro- 
prietor. So  far  all  is  right  :  but  you  cannot  claim  the  whole 
tree,  or  the  whole  flock,  and  exclude  me  from  any  share  of  them, 
and  plead  this  general  intention  for  what  you  do.  The  plea  will 
not  serve  you  ;  you  must  show  something  farther.  You  must 
show,  by  probable  arguments  at  least,  that  it  is  God's  intentior* 


3d  THE  CENEIIAL  RIGHTS 

that  tliesc  things  should  be  parcelled  out  to  individuals  ;  and 
that  the  established  distribution,  under  which  you  claim,  should 
be  upheld.  Show  me  Ihis,  and  I  am  satisfied.  But  until  this 
be  shown,  the  general  intention,  which  has  been  made  appear, 
and  which  is  all  that  does  appear,  must  prevail  ;  and,  under  that, 
my  title  is  as  good  as  yours.  Now,  there  is  no  argument  to  in- 
duce such  a  presumption,  but  one,  that  the  thing  cannot  be  en- 
joyed at  all,  or  enjoyed  with  the  same,  or  with  nearly  the  same 
advantage,  while  it  continues  in  common,  as  when  appropriated. 
This  is  true,  where  there  is  not  enough  for  all,  or  where  the  ar- 
ticle in  question  requires  care  or  labour  in  the  production  or 
preservation  ;  but  where  no  such  reason  obtains,  and  the  thing 
is  in  its  nature  capable  of  being  enjoyed  by  as  many  as  will,  it 
seems  an  arbitrary  usurpation  upon  the  rights  of  mankind,  to 
confine  the  use  of  it  to  any. 

If  a  medicinal  spring  were  discovered  in  a  piece  of  ground 
which  was  private  property,  copious  enough  for  every  purpose 
it  could  be  applied  to,  1  would  award  a  compensation  to  the 
owner  of  the  field,  and  a  liberal  profit  to  the  author  of  the  dis- 
covery, especially  if  he  had  bestowed  pains  or  expense  upon 
the  search  ;  but  I  question  whether  any  human  laws  would  be 
justified,  or  would  justify  the  owner,  in  prohibiting  mankind 
from  the  use  of  the  water,  or  setting  such  a  price  upon  it,  as 
would  almost  amount  to  a  prohibition. 

If  there  be  fisheries  which  are  inexhaustible  ;  as  for  aught  I 
know,  the  cod-fishery  upon  the  Banks  of  Newfoundland,  and  the 
herring-fishery  in  the  British  seas  are  ;  then  all  those  conven- 
tions by  which  one  or  two  nations  claim  to  themselves,  and  guar- 
antee to  each  other,  the  exclusive  enjoyment  of  these  fisheries, 
are  so  many  encroachments  upon  the  general  rights  of  mankind. 

Upon  the  same  principle  may  be  determined  a  question,  which 
makes  a  great  figure  in  books  of  natural  law,  utrum  mare  sit  li- 
herum?  that  is,  as  I  understand  it,  whether  the  exclusive  right 
of  navigating  particular  seas,  or  a  control  over  the  navigation  of 
these  seas,  can  be  claimed,  consistently  with  the  law  of  nature, 


OF  MANKIND.  81 

by  any  nation  ? — What  is  necessary  for  each  nation's  safety  we 
allow  ;  as  their  own  bays,  creeks,  and  harbours,  the  sea  contigu- 
ous to,  that  is,  within  cannon-shot,  or  three  leagues  of  their  coast  : 
and  upon  the  same  principle  of  safety  (if  upon  any  principle) 
must  be  defended  the  claim  of  the  Venetian  State  to  the  Adriatic, 
of  Denmark  to  the  Baltic,  of  Great  Britain  to  the  seas  which  in- 
vest the  island.  But,  when  Spain  asserts  a  right  to  the  Pacific 
Ocean,  or  Portugal  to  the  Indian  Seas,  or  when  '>ny  nation  ex- 
tends its  pretensions  nuich  beyond  the  limits  of  its  own  territo- 
ries, they  erect  a  claim  which  interferes  with  the  benevolent  de- 
signs of  Providence,  and  which  no  human  authority  can  justify. 

111.  Another  right,  which  may  be  called  a  general  right,  as  it 
is  incidental  to  every  man  who  is  in  a  situation  to  claim  it,  is  the 
right  of  extreme  necessity  ;  by  which  is  meant,  a  right  to  use 
or  destroy  another's  property,  when  it  is  necessary  for  our  own 
preservation  to  do  so  ;  as  a  right  to  lake,  without  or  against  the 
owner's  leave,  the  first  food,  clothes,  or  shelter  we  meet  with, 
when  we  are  in  danger  of  perishing  through  want  of  them  ;  a 
right  to  throw  goods  overboard,  to  save  the  ship  ;  or  to  ])ull 
down  a  house,  in  order  to  stop  the  progress  of  a  fire  ;  and  a  few 
other  instances  of  the  same  kind.  Of  which  right  the  founda-  f 
tion  seems  to  be  this,  that  when  property , was  first  instituted,  the 
institution  was  not  intended  to  operate  to  the  destruction  of  any  ; 
therefore,  when  such  consequences  would  follow,  all  regard  to  it  ^ 

is  superseded.  Or  rather,  perhaps,  these  are  the  i^vi  cases, 
where  the   particular  consequence  exceeds  the  general  conse-  1 

quencc  ;  where  the  mischief  resulting  from  the  violation  of  the  ^ 

general  rule,  is  overbalanced  by  the  immediate  advantage. 

Restitution  however  is  due,  when  in  our  po^ver  ;  because  the 
laws  of  property  are  to  be  adhered  to,  so  far  as  consists  .with  safe- 
ty ;  and  because  restitution,  which  is  one  of  those  laws,  suppo- 
ses the  danger  to  be  over.  But  what  is  to  be  restored  ?  Not  the 
full  value  of  the  property  destroyed,  but  what  it  was  worth  at  nt 
the  time  of  destroying  it,  which,  considering  the  danger  it  was  ^ 
in  of  perishing,  might  be  s^iy  little.  L, 

11 


5> 


\ 


^ 


BOOK  nh 

RELATIVE  DUTIES. 


PART  I. 

OF  RELATIVE  DUTIES  WHICH  ARE  DETERMINATE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

OF  PROPERTY. 

IF  you  should  see  a  flock  of  pigeons  in  a  field  of  corn  ;  and 
if  (instead  of  each  picking  where  and  what  it  liked,  taking  just 
as  much  as  it  wanted,  and  no  more)  you  should  see  ninety-nine 
of  them  gathering  all  they  got  into  a  heap  ;  reserving  nothing 
for  themselves  but  the  chaff  and  the  refuse  ;  keeping  this  heap 
for  one,  and  that  the  weakest  perhaps,  and  worst  pigeon  of  the 
flock  ;  sitting  round  and  looking  on  all  the  winter,  whilst  this  one 
was  devouring,  throwing  about,  and  wasting  it ;  and  if  a  pigeon,, 
more  hardy  or  hungry  than  the  rest,  touched  a  grain  of  the 
hoard,  all  the  others  instantly  flying  upon  it,  and  tearing  it  to  pie- 
ces :  If  you  should  see  this,  you  would  see  nothing  more  than 
what  is  every  day  practised  and  established  among  men.  Among 
men,  you  see  the  ninety  and  nine  toiling  and  scraping  together  a 
heap  of  superfluities  for  one  ;  getting  nothing  for  themselves  all 


OF  PROPERTY.  ta 

ihe  while,  but  a  little  of  the  coarsest  of  the  provision  which  their 
labour  produces,  (and  this  one,  too,  oftentimes  the  feeblest  and 
worst  of  the  whole  set, — a  child,  a  woman,  a  mad-man,  or  a 
fool  ;)  looking  quietly  on,  while  they  see  the  fruits  of  all  their 
labour  spent  or  spoiled  ;  and  if  one  of  them  take  or  touch  a 
particle  of  it,  the  others  join  against  him,  and  bang  him  for  the 
Iheft. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  USE  OF  THE  INSTITUTION  OF  PROPERTY. 

THERE  must  be  some  very  important  advantages  to  account 
for  an  institution,  which,  in  one  view  of  it,  is  so  paradoxical  and 
unnatural. 

The  principal  of  these  advantages  are  the  following  : — 

I.  It  increases  the  produce  of  the  earth. 

The  earth,  in  climates  like  ours,  produces  little  without  culti- 
vation ;  and  none  would  be  found  willing  to  cultivate  the  ground, 
if  others  were  to  be  admitted  to  an  equal  share  of  the  produce. 

The  same  is  true  of  the  care  of  flocks  and  herds  of  tame  an- 
imals. 

Crabs  and  acorns,  red  deer,  rabbits,  game,  and  fish,  are  ali 
we  should  have  to  subsist  upon,  if  we  trusted  to  the  spontaneous 
productions  of  this  country  ;  and  it  fares  not  much  better  with 
other  countries.  A  nation  of  North-American  savages,  consist- 
ing of  two  or  three  hundred,  v.'ill  occupy,  and  be  half-starved 
upon  a  tract  of  land,  which  in  Europe,  and  with  European  man- 
agement, would  be  sufficient  for  the  maintenance  of  as  many 
thousands. 

In  some  fertile  soils,  with  great  abundance  of  fish  upon  their 
coasts,  and  in  regions  where  clothes  are  unnecessary,  a  consid- 
erable degree  of  population  may  subsist  without  property  in 


84  OF  PROPERTY. 

land,  which  is  the  case  in  the  islands  of  Otaheite  ;  but  in  lc?s 
favoured  situations,  as  in  the  country  of  New  Zealand,  though 
this  sort  of  property  obtain  in  a  small  degree,  the  inhabitants, 
for  want  of  a  more  secure  and  rr^fular  establishment  of  it,  are 
driven  oltentimes  by  the  scarcity  of  provision  to  devour  one 
another. 

II.  It  preserves  the  produce  of  the  earth  to  maturity. 

We  may  judge  what  would  be  the  effects  of  a  community  of 
right  to  the  productions  of  the  earth,  from  the  trifling  specimens 
which  we  see  of  it  at  present.  A  cherry-tree  in  a  hedge-row, 
nuts  in  a  wood,  the  grass  of  an  unstinted  pasture,  are  seldom 
of  much  advantage  to  any  l>ody,  because  people  do  not  wait  for 
the  proper  season  of  reaping  them.  Corn,  if  any  were  sown, 
would  never  ripen  ;  lambs  and  calves  would  never  grow  up  to 
sheep  and  cows,  because  the  first  person  tliat  met  with  them 
would  reflect,  that  he  had  better  take  them  as  they  are,  than 
leave  them  for  another. 

III.  It  prevents  contests. 

War  and  waste,  tumult  and  confusion,  must  be  unavoidable 
and  eternal,  where  there  is  not  enough  for  all,  and  where  there 
are  no  rules  to  adjust  the  division. 

IV.  It  improves  the  conveniency  of  living. 

Tills  it  does  two  ways.  It  enables  mankind  to  divide  them- 
selves into  distinct  professions;  which  is  impossible,  unless  a 
man  can  exchange  the  productions  of  his  own  art  for  what  he 
wants  from  others  ;  and  exchange  implies  property.  Much  of  the 
advantage  of  civilized  over  savage  life,  depends  upon  this. 
When  a  man  is,  from  necessity,  his  own  tailor,  tent-maker,  car- 
penter, cook,  huntsman,  and  fisherman,  it  is  not  probable  that  he 
will  be  expert  at  any  of  his  callings.  Hence  the  rude  habita- 
tions, furniture,  clothing,  and  implements  of  savages,  and  the 
tedious  length  of  time  which  all  their  operations  require. 

It  likewise  encourages  those  acts  by  which  the  accommoda- 
tions of  human  life  are  supplied,  by  appropriating  to  the  artist 
the  benefit  of  his  discoveries  and  improvements  ;  without  which 
appropriation,  ingenuity  will  never  be  exerted  witii  effect. 


THE  HISTORY  OF  PROPERTY.  85 

Upon  these  several  accounts  we  may  venture,  with  a  few  ex- 
ceptions, to  pronounce,  that  even  the  poorest  and  the  worst  pro- 
vided, in  countries  where  property,  and  the  consequences  of 
property  prevail,  are  in  a  better  situation  with  respect  to  food, 
raiment,  houses,  and  what  are  called  the  necessaries  of  life,  than 
any  are  in  places  where  most  things  remain  in  common. 

The  balance,  therefore,  upon  the  whole,  must  preponderate 
in  favour  of  property  with  a  great  excess. 

Inequality  of  property,  in  the  degree  in  which  it  exists  in 
most  countries  of  Europe,  abstractedly  considered,  is  an  evil  ; 
but  it  is  an  evil  which  flows  from  those  rules  concerning  *he  ac- 
quisition and  disposal  of  property,  by  which  men  are  incited  to 
industry,  and  by  which  the  object  of  their  industry  is  rendered 
secure  and  valuable.  If  there  be  any  great  inequality  uncon- 
nected  with  this  origin,  it  ought  to  be  corrected. 


CHAPTER  111. 

THE  HISTORY  OF  PROPERTY. 

THE  first  objects  of  property  were  the  fruits  a  man  plucked, 
and  the  wild  animals  he  caught  ;  next  to  these,  the  tents  or  hous- 
es which  he  built,  the  tools  he  made  use  of  to  catch  or  prepare 
his  food  ;  and  afterwards  weapons  of  war  and  offence.  Many  of 
the  savage  tribes  in  North-America  have  advanced  no  further 
than  this  yet  ;  for  they  are  said  to  gather  their  harvest,  and  re- 
turn the  produce  of  their  market  with  foreigners  into  the  common 
hoard  or  treasury  of  tlie  tribe.  Flocks  and  herds  of  tame  ani- 
mals soon  became  property  :  Abel,  the  second  from  Adam,  was 
a  keeper  of  sheep  ;  sheep  and  oxen,  camels  and  asses,  composed 
the  wealth  of  the  Jewish  patriarchs,  as  they  do  still  of  the  modern 
Arabs.  As  the  world  was  first  peopled  in  the  East,  where  there 
existed  a  great  scarcity  of  water,  wells  probably  were  next  made 


86  THE  HISTORY  OF  PllOrERTY. 

property  ;  as  we  learn  from  tlie  frequent  and  serious  mention  of 
them  in  the  Old  Testament,  the  content. ons  and  treaties  about 
them,*  and  from  its  being  recorded  among  the  most  memorable 
achievements  of  very  eminent  men,  that  they  dug  or  discovered 
a  Well.  Land,  which  is  now  so  important  a  part  of  property, 
which  alone  our  laws  call  real  proj)erty,  and  regard  upon  all  oc- 
casions with  such  peculiar  attention,  was  probably  not  made 
property  in  any  country  till  long  after  the  institution  of  many 
other  species  of  property,  that  is,  till  the  country  became  popu- 
lous, and  tillage  began  lo  be  thought  of.  The  first  partition  of 
an  estate  which  we  read  of,  wns  that  which  took  place  between 
Abram  and  Lot,  and  was  one  of  the  simplest  imaginable  :  "  If 
"  thou  wilt  take  the  left  hand,  then  I  will  go  to  the  right  ;  or  if 
"  thou  depart  to  the  right  hand,  then  1  will  go  to  the  left." 
There  are  no  traces  of  property  in  land  in  Caisar's  account  of 
Britain  ;  little  of  it  in  the  history  of  the  Jewish  patriarchs  ;  none 
of  it  found  amongst  the  nations  of  North-America  ;  the  Scythians 
are  expressly  said  to  have  appropriated  their  cattle  and  houses, 
but  to  have  left  their  land  in  common. 

Property  in  moveables  continued  at  first  no  longer  than  the 
occupation  ;  that  is,  so  long  as  a  man's  family  continued  in  pos- 
session of  a  cave,  or  his  'flocks  depastured  upon  a  neighboring 
hill,  no  one  attempted,  or  thought  he  had  a  right,  to  disturb  or 
drive  them  out  ;  but  when  the  man  quitted  his  cave,  or  changed 
his  pasture,  the  first  who  found  them  unoccupied,  entered  upon 
them  by  the  same  title  as  his  predecessor's,  and  made  way  in 
his  turn  for  any  one  that  happened  to  succeed  him.  All  more 
permanent  property  in  land  was  probably  posterior  to  civil  gov- 
ernment and  to  laws,  and  therefore  settled  by  these,  or  according 
to  the  will  of  the  reigning  chief. 

*  Genesis,  xxi.  25.  xxvi.  18. 


PROPERTY  IN  LAND.  87 

CHAPTER  IV. 

IN  WHAT  THE  RIGHT  OF  PROPERTY  IS  FOUNDED, 

WE  now  speak  of  Property  in  Land  ;  and  there  is  a  difficulty' 
in  explaining  the  origin  of  this  property  consistently  with  the  law 
of  nature  ;  for  the  land  was  once,  no  doubt,  common,  and  the 
question  is,  how  any  particular  part  of  it  could  justly  be  taken 
out  of  the  common,  and  so  appropriated  to  the  first  owner,  as  to 
give  him  a  better  right  to  it  than  others,  and,  what  is  more,  a 
right  to  exclude  all  others  from  it. 

Moralists  have  given  many  different  accounts  of  this  matter  ; 
which  diversity  alone,  perhaps,  is  a  proof  that  none  of  them  are 
satisfactory. 

One  tells  us  that  mankind,  when  they  suffered  a  particular 
person  to  occupy  a  piece  of  ground,  by  tacit  consent  relinquished 
their  right  to  it  ;  and,  as  the  piece  of  ground  belonged  to  man- 
kind collectively,  and  mankind  thus  gave  up  their  right  to  the 
first  peaceable  occupier,  it  thenceforward  became  his  property, 
and  no  person  afterwards  had  a  right  to  molest  him  in  it. 

The  objection  to  this  account  is,  that  consent  can  never  be 
presumed  from  silence,  where  the  person  whose  consent  is  re- 
quired knows  nothing  about  the  matter,  which  must  have  been 
the  case  with  all  mankind,  except  the  neighbourhood  of  the  place 
where  the  appropriation  was  made.  And  to  suppose  that  the 
piece  of  ground  previously  belonged  to  the  neighbourhood,  and 
that  they  had  a  just  power  of  conferring  a  right  to  it  upon  whonra 
they  pleased,  is  to  suppose  the  question  resolved,  and  a  parti- 
tion of  land  to  have  alread}'  taken  place. 

Another  says,  that  each  man's  limbs  and  labour  are  his  own 
exclusively  ;  that,  by  occupying  a  piece  of  ground,  a  man  in- 
separably mixes  his  labour  with  it  ;  by  which  means  the  peice  of 
ground  becomes  thenceforward  his  own,  as  you  cannot  take  it 


S8  PROPERTY  IN  LAND. 

from  hiui,  without  depriving  him  at  the  same  lime  of  something 
which  is  indisputably  his. 

This  is  Mr,  Locke's  solution  ;  and  seems  indeed  a  fair  reason, 
where  the  value  of  the  labour  bears  a  considerabki  proportion  to 
the  value  of  tliQ  thing  ;  or  where  the  thing  derives  its  chief  use 
and  value  from  the  labour.  Thus,  game  and  fish,  though  tjjey 
be  common,  whilst  at  large  in  the  woods  or  water,  instantly  be- 
come the  property  of  the  person  that  catches  them  ;  because  an 
animal,  when  caught,  is  much  more  valuable  than  when  at  lib- 
erty ;  and  this  increase  of  value,  which  is  inseparable  from,  and 
makes  a  great  part  of  the  whole  value,  is  strictly  the  property 
of  the  fowler,  being  the  produce  of  his  personal  labour.  P'or  the 
same  reason,  wood  or  iron,  manufactured  into  utensils,  becomes 
the  property  of  the  manufacturer  ;  because  the  value  of  the 
workmanship  far  exceeds  that  of  the  materials.  And  upon  a 
similar  principle,  a  parcel  of  unappropriated  ground,  which  a 
man  should  pare,  burn,  plough,  harrow,  and  sow,  for  the  produc- 
tion of  corn,  would  justly  enough  be  thereby  made  his  own. 
But  this  will  hardly  hold,  in  the  manner  it  has  been  applied,  of 
taking  a  ceremonious  possession  of  a  tract  of  land,  as  navigators 
do  of  new-discovered  islands,  by  erecting  a  standard,  engraving 
an  inscription,  or  publishing  a  proclamation  to  the  birds  and 
beasts  ;  or  of  turning  your  cattle  into  a  piece  of  ground,  setting 
up  a  landmark,  digging  a  ditch,  or  planting  a  hedge  round  it. 
Nor  will  even  the  clearing,  manuring,  and  ploughing  of  a  field, 
give  the  first  occupier  a  right  to  it  in  perpetuity,  and  after  this 
cultivation  and  all  effects  of  it  are  ceased. 

Another,  and  in  my  opinion  a  better  account  of  the  first  rights 
of  ownei-ship,  is  the  following  :  that  as  God  has  provided  these 
things  for  the  use  of  all,  he  has  of  consequence  given  each  leave 
to  take  of  them  what  he  wants  :  by  virtue  therefore  of  this 
leave,  a  man  may  appropriate  what  he  wants  to  his  own  use, 
without  asking  or  waiting  for  the  consent  of  others  ;  in  like  man- 
ner as,  when  an  entertainment  is  provided  for  the  tVeeholders  of 
a  county,  each  freeholder  goes,  and  eats  and  drinks  what  he 


PROPERTY  IN  LAND.  89 

wants  or  chooses,  without  having  or  waiting  for  the  consent  of 
«the  other  guests. 

But  then  this  reason  justifies  property,  as  far  as  necessaries 
only,  or,  at  the  most,  as  far  as  a  competent  provision  for  our  na- 
tural exigencies.  For,  in  the  entertainment  we  speak  of,  (allow- 
ing the  comparison  to  hold  in  all  points,)  although  every  particu- 
lar freeholder  may  sit  down  and  eat  till  he  be  satisfied,  without 
any  other  leave  than  that  of  the  master  of  the  feast,  or  any  other 
proof  of  this  leave,  than  the  general  invitation,  or  the  manifest 
design  with  which  the  entertainment  is  provided  ;  yet  you  would 
hardly  permit  any  one  Jo  fill  his  pockets  or  his  wallet,  or  to  car- 
ry away  with  him  a  quantity  of  provision  to  be  'hoarded  up,  or 
wasted,  or  given  to  his  dogs,  or  stewed  down  into  sauces,  or 
converted  into  articles  of  superfluous  luxury  ;  especially  if,  by 
so  doing,  jie  pinched  the  guests  at  the  lower  end  of  the  table. 

T.hese  are  the  accounts  that  have  been  given  of  the  matter  by 
the  best  writers  upon  the  subject,  but,  were  these  accounts  less 
exeeplienable  than  they  are,  they  would  none  of  them,  I  fear, 
avail  us  in  vindicating  our  present  claims  of  property  in  land, 
unless  it  were  more  probable  than  it  is^  that  our  estates  were  ac- 
tually acquired  at  first,  in  some  of  the  ways  which  these  accounts 
suppose  ;  and  that  a  regular  regard  had  been  paid  to  justice,  ia 
every  successive  transmission  of  them  since  ;  for,  if  one  link  itt 
{he  chain  fail,  every  title  posterior  to  it  falls  to  the  ground. 

The  real  foundation  of  our  right  is  the  law  of  the  land. 

It  is  the  intention  of  God,  that  the  produce  of  the  earth  be  ap- 
plied to  the  use  of  man  ;  this  intention  cannot  be  fulfilled  with- 
out establishing  property  ;  it  is  consistent  therefore  with  his  will, 
that  property  be  established.  The  land  cannot  be  divided  into 
separate  properly  without  leaving  it  to  the  law  of  the  country  to 
regulate  that  division  :  it  is  consistent  therefore  with  the  same 
will,  that  the  law  should  regulate  the  division  ;  and,  con- 
i-equcntly,  "  consistent  with  the  will  of  God,"  or  "  right,"  thajt 
I  should  possess  that  share  which  these  regulations  assign  me. 
J2 


90  PROPERTY  IN  LAND. 

By  whatever  circuitious  train  of  reasoning  you  attempt  to  de- 
rive this  right,  it  must  terminate  at  last  in  the  will  of  God  ;  the 
straightest,  therefore,  and  shortest  way  of  coming  at  this  will,  is 
the  best. 

Hence  it  appears,  that  my  right  to  an  estate  does  not  at  all 
depend  upon  the  manner  or  justice  of  the  original  acquisition  ; 
nor  upon  the  justice  of  each  subsequent  change  of  possession. 
It  is  not,  for  instance,  the  less,  nor  ought  it  to  be  impeached,  be- 
cause the  estate  was  taken  possession  of  at  first  by  a  family  of  abo- 
riginal Britons,  wlio  happened  to  be  stronger  than  their  neigh- 
bours ;  nor  because  the  British  possessor  was  turned  out  by  a 
Roman,  and  the  Roman  by  a  Saxon  invader  ;  nor  because  it 
was  seized,  without  colour  of  right  or  reason,  by  a  follower 
of  the  Norman  adventurer;  from  whom,  after  many  interrup- 
tions of  fraud  and  violence,  it  has  at  length  devolved  to  me. 

Nor  does  the  owner's  right  depend  upon  the  expediency  of 
the  law  which  gives  it  to  him.  On  one  side  of  a  book,  an  es- 
tate descends  to  the  eldest  son  ;  on  the  other  side,  to  all  the 
children  alike.  The  right  of  the  claimants  under  both  laws  of 
inheritance  is  equal  ;  though  the  expediency  of  such  opposite 
rules  must  necessarily  be  different. 

The  principles  we  have  laid  down  upon  this  subject,  appa- 
rently tend  to  a  conclusion  of  which  a  bad  use  is  apt  to  be  made. 
As  the  right  of  property  depends  upon  the  law  of  the  land,  it 
seems  to  follow,  that  a  man  has  a  right  to  keep  and  take  every 
thing  which  the  law  will  allow  him  to  keep  and  take  ;  which  in  ma- 
ny cases  will  authorize  the  most  manifest  and  llagitious  chicanery. 
If  a  creditor  upon  a  simple  contract  neglect  to  demand  his  debt 
for  six  years,  the  debtor  may  refuse  to  pay  it :  would  it  be  right 
therefore  to  do  so,  where  he  is  conscious  of  the  justice  of  the 
debt?  if  a  person  who  is  under  twenty-one  years  of  age  con- 
tract a  bargain,  (other  than  for  necessaries,)  he  may  avoid  it  by 
pleading  his  minority  ;  but  would  this  be  a  fair  plea,  where  the 
bargain  was  originally  just  ? — The  distinction  to  be  taken  in 
such  cases  is  this  :  With  the  Uw.  we  acknowledi;e,  resides  the 


PROPERTY  IN  LAND.  91 

disposal  of  propertj  ;  so  long,  therefore,  as  we  keep  within  the 
design  and  intention  of  a  law,  that  law  will  justify  us,  as  well  in 
foro  conscientiiE,  as  inforo  humano,  whatever  be  the -equity  or  ex- 
pediency of  the  law  itself.  But  when  we  convert  to  one  purpose 
a  rule  or  expression  of  law,  which  is  intended  for  another  pur- 
pose, tb«n  we  plead  in  our  justification,  not  the  intention  of 
the  law,  but  the  words  ;  that  is,  we  plead  a  dead  letter,  which 
can  signify  nothing  ;  for  words  without  meaning  or  intention, 
have  no  force  or  effect  in  justice  ;  much  less,  words  taken  con- 
trary to  the  meaning  and  intention  of  the  speaker  or  writer.  To 
apply  this  distinction  to  the  examples  just  now  proposed  : — In 
Order  to  protect  men  against  antiquated  demands,  from  which  it 
is  not  probable  they  should  have  preserved  the  evidence  of  their 
discharge,  the  law  prescribes  a  limited  time  to  certain  species  of 
private  securities,  beyond  which  it  will  not  enforce  them,  or  lend 
its  assistance  to  the  recovery  of  the  debt.  If  a  man  be  ignorant 
or  dubious  of  the  justice  of  the  demand  made  upon  him,  he  may 
conscientiously  plead  this  limitation  :  because  he  applies  the  rule 
of  law  to  the  purpose  for  wliich  it  was  intended.  But  when  he 
refuses  to  pay  a  debt,  of  the  reality  of  which  he  is  conscious,  he 
cannot,  as  before,  plead  the  intention  of  the  statute,  and  the  su- 
preme authority  of  law,  unless  he  could  show  that  the  law  iw 
tended  to  interpose  its  supreme  authority,  to  acquit  men  of  debts, 
of  the  existence  and  justice  of  which  they  were  themselves  sen- 
sible. Again,  to  preserve  youth  from  the  practices  and  imposi- 
tions to  which  Ibeir  inexperience  exposes  them,  the  Jaw  compels 
the  payment  of  no  debts  incurred  within  a  certain  age,  nor  the 
performance  of  any  engagements,  except  for  such  necessaries  as 
are  suited  to  their  condition  and  fortunes.  If  a  young  person 
therefore  perceive  that  he  has  been  practised  or  imposed  upon, 
he  may  honestly  avail  himself  of  the  privilege  of  his  non-age,  to 
defeat  the  circumvention.  But,  if  he  shelter  himself  under  this 
privilege,  to  avoid  a  fair  obligation,  or  an  equitable  contract,  he 
extends  the  privilege  to  a  case,  iji  which  it  is  not  allowed  by  in- 


9J2  I'ROMISES. 

tention  of  law,  and  in  which  consequently  it  does  not,  in  natur^^I 
justice,  exist. 

As  property  is  the  principal  subject  of  justice,  or  of  "  the  dc- 
*'  terminate  relative  duties,"  we  have  put  down  what  we  had  to 
say  upon  it  in  the  first  place  :  we  now  proceed  to  state  these  du- 
ties in  the  best  order  we  can. 


CHAPTER  V. 

PROMISES. 

I.  WHENCE  the  obligation  to  perform  promises  arises. 

II.  In  what  sense  promises  arc  to  be  interpreted. 

III.  In  what  cases  promises  are  not  binding. 

I.  From  whence  the  obligation  to  perform  promises  arises. 

They  who  argue  from  innate  moral  principles,  suppose  a  sense 
of  the  obligation  of  promises  to  be  one  of  them  ;  but  without  as- 
suming this,  or  any  thing  else,  without  proof,  the  obligation  to 
perform  promises  may  be  deduced  from  the  necessity  of  such  a 
conduct,  to  the  well-being,  or  the  existence,  indeed,  of  human 
society. 

Men  act  from  expectation.  Expectation  is  in  most  cases  de- 
termined by  the  assurances  and  engagements  which  we  receive 
from  others.  If  no  de]iendancc  could  be  placed  u[)on  these  as- 
surances, it  would  be  impossible  to  know  what  judgment  to  form 
of  many  future  events,  or  how  to  regulate  our  conduct  with  re- 
spect to  them.  Confidence  therefore  in  promises,  is  essential 
to  the  intercourse  of  human  life  ;  because,  without  it,  the  great- 
est p^rt  of  our  conduct  would  proceed  upon  chance.  But  there 
could  be  no  confidence  in  promises,  if  men  were  not  obliged  to 


PROMISES.  93 

perform  them  ;  the  obligation  therefore  to  perform  promises,  is 
essential,  to  the  same  end,  and  in  the  same  degree. 

Some  may  imagine,  that  if  this  obligation  were  suspended,  a 
general  caution  and  mutual  distrust  would  ensue,  which  might 
do  as  well  :  but  this  is  imagined,  without  considering  how,  eve- 
ry hour  of  our  lives,  we  trust  to,  and  depend  upon  others  ;  and 
how  impossible  it  is  to  stir  a  step,  or  what  is  worse,  to  sit  still  a 
moment,  without  such  trust  and  dependance.  I  am  now  writing 
at  my  ease,  not  doubting,  (or  rather  never  distrusting,  and  there- 
fore never  thinking  about  it,)  but  that  the  butcher  will  send  in 
the  joint  of  meat  which  I  ordered  ;  that  his  servant  will  bring  it ; 
that  my  cook  will  dress  it ;  that  my  footman  will  serve  it  up  ; 
and  that  I  shall  find  it  upon  table  at  one  o'clock.  Yet  have  I 
nothing  for  all  this  but  the  promise  of  the  butcher,  and  the  im- 
plied promise  of  his  servant  and  mine.  And  the  same  holds  of 
the  most  important  as  well  as  the  most  familiar  occurrences  of 
social  life.  In  the  one,  the  intervention  of  promises  is  formal, 
and  is  seen  and  acknowledged  ;  our  instance,  therefore,  is  in- 
tended to  show  it  in  the  other,  where  it  is  not  so  distinctly  ob- 
served. 

II.  In  wliat  sense  promises  are  to  he  interpreted. 

Where  the  terms  of  a  promise  admit  of  moi'e  senses  than  one, 
the  promise  is  to  be  pei-formed  "  in  that  sense  in  which  the 
"  promiser  apprehended  at  the  time  that  the  promisee  receiv- 
"ed  it." 

It  is  not  the  sense  in  which  the  promiser  actually  intended  it 
that  always  governs  the  interpretation  ot  an  equivocal  promise  ; 
for,  at  that  rate,  you  might  excite  expectations,  which  you  never 
meant,  nor  would  be  obliged  to  satisfy.  Much  less  is  it  the 
sense  in  which  the  promisee  actually  received  the'promise  ;  for, 
according  to  that  rule,  you  might  be  drawn  into  engagements 
which  you  never  designed  to  undertake.  It  must  therefore  be 
the  sense  (for  there  is  no  other  remaining)  in  which  the  promis- 
er belived  that  the  promisee  accepted  his  promise. 


94  PROMISES. 

,  This  will  not  differ  from  the  actual  intention  of  the  promiscr, 
where  the  promise  is  given  without  collusion  or  reserve  ;  but  we 
put  the  rule  in  the  above  form,  to  exclude  evasion  in  cases  in 
which  the  popular  meaning  of  a  phrase,  and  the  strict  grammati- 
cal signification  of  the  words,  differ  ;  or,  in  general,  wherever 
the  promiser  attempts  to  make  his  escape  through  some  ambigu- 
ity in  the  expressions  which  he  used. 

Temures  promised  the  garrison  of  Sebastia,  that,  if  they  would 
surrender,  no  blood  should  be  shed.  The  garrison  surrendered, 
and  Temures  buried  them  all  alive.  Now  Temures  fulfilled  the 
promise  in  one  sense,  and  in  the  sense  too  in  which  he  intended 
it  at  the  time,  but  not  in  the  j^ense  in  which  the  garrison  of  Se- 
bastia actually  received  it,  nor  in  the  sense  in  which  Temures 
himself  knew  that  the  garrison  received  it ;  which  last  sense,  ac- 
cording to  our  rule,  was  the  sense  he  was  in  conscience  bound 
to  have  performed  it  in. 

From  the  account  we  have  given  of  the  obligation  of  promises, 
it  is  evident,  that  this  obligation  depends  upon  the  expectations 
which  we  knowingly  and  voluntarily  excite.  Consequently,  any 
action  or  conduct  towards  another,  which  we  are  sensible  excites 
expectations  in  that  other,  is  as  much  a  promise,  and  creates  as 
strict  an  obligation  as  the  most  express  assurances.  Taking, 
for  instance,  a  relation's  child,  and  educating  him  for  a  liberal 
profession,  or  in  a  manner  suitable  only  for  the  heir  of  a  large 
fortune,  as  much  obliges  us  to  place  him  in  that  profession,  or  to 
JeavG  him  such  a  fortune,  as  if  we  had  given  him  a  promise  to 
do  so  under  our  hands  and  seals.  In  like  manner,  a  great  man, 
tvho  encourages  an  indigent  retainer,  or  a  minister  of  state,  who 
distinguishes  and  caresses  at  his  levee  one  who  is  in  a  situation 
to  be  obliged  oy  his  patronage,  engages  by  such  behaviour,  to 
provide  for  him.     This  is  the  foundation  of  tacit  promises. 

You  may  either  simply  declare  your  present  intention,  or  you 
may  accompany  your  declaration  with  an  engagement  to  abide 
by  it,  which  constitutes  a  complete  promise.  In  the  first  case, 
♦he  duty  is  satisfied,  if  you  wore  sincere ;  that  is,   if  yon  enter- 


PROMISES.  95 

lained  at  the  time  the  intention  you  expressed,  however  soon,  or 
lor  whatever  reason,  you  afterwards  change  it.  In  the  latter 
case,  you  have  parted  with  the  liberty  of  changing.  All  this  ig 
plain  :  but  it  must  he  observed,  that  most  of  those  forms  of 
speech,  which,  strictly  taken,  amount  to  no  more  than  declara- 
tions of  present  intention,  do  yet,  in  the  usual  way  of  understand- 
ing them,  excite  the  expectation,  and  therefore  carry  with  them 
the  force  of  absolute  promises.  Such  as  "  I  intend  you  this 
"  place." — ■"  I  design  to  leave  you  this  estate." — "  I  purpose 
"  giving  you  my  vote." — "  I  mean  to  gerve  you."  In  which, 
although  the  "•  intention,"  the  "  design,"  the  "  purpose,"  the 
"  meaning,"  be  expressed  in  words  of  the  present  time,  yet  you 
cannot  afterwards  recede  from  them,  without  a  breach  of  good 
faith.  If  you  choose  therefore  to  make  known  your  present  in- 
tention, and  yet  to  reserve  to  yourself  the  liberty  of  changing  it, 
you  must  guard  your  expVessions  by  an  additional  clause,  as  "  I 
*'  intend  at  present,^'' — "  if  I  do  not  alter,'''' — or  the  like.  And 
aftei'all,  as  there  can  be  no  i-eason  for  communicating  your  in- 
tention, but  to  excite  some  degree  of  expectation  or  other,  a 
wanton  change  of  an  intention  which  is  once  disclosed,  always 
disappoints  somebody,  and  is  always,  for  that  reason,  wrong. 

There  is  in  some  men  an  infirmity  with  regard  to  promises, 
which  often  betrays  them  into  great  distress.  From  the  confu-. 
sion,  or  hesitation,  or  obscurity,  with  which  they  express  them- 
selves, especially  when  overawed,  or  taken  by  surprise,  they 
sometimes  encourage  expectations,  and  bring  upon  themselves 
demands,  which,  possibly,  they  never  dreamed  of.  This  is  a 
want,  not  so  much  of  integrity,  as  of  presence  of  mind. 

III.  In  tvhat  cases  promises  are  not  binding. 

1.  Promises  are  not  binding,  where  the  performance  is  impos- 
sible. 

But  observe,  that  the  promisor  is  guilty  of  a  fraud,  if  he  be 
privately  aware  of  the  impossibility  at  the  time  of  making  the 
promise.  For,  when  any  one  promises  a  thing,  he  asserts  his 
belief,  at  least,  of  the  possibility  of  performing  it  :    as  po  one 


96  PROMISES. 

can  accept  or  understand  a  promise  under  any  other  supposition. 
Instances  of  this  sort  are  the  following  :  The  minister  promises 
a  place,  which  he  knows  to  be  engaged,  or  not  at  his  disposal : — 
A  father,  in  settling  marriage-articles,  promises  to  leave  his 
daughter  an  estate  which  he  knows  to  be  entailed  upon  the  heir- 
male  of  his  family  : — A  merchant  proniises  with  his  daughter  a 
ship,  or  share  of  a  ship,  which  he  is  privately  advised  is  lost  at 
sea  : — An  incumbent  promises  to  resign  a  living,  being  well  assur- 
ed that  his  resignation  will  not  be  accepted  by  the  bishop.  The 
promiser,  as  in  these  cases,  with  knowledge  of  the  impossibility, 
is  justly  answerable  in  an  equivalent  ;  but  otherwise  not. 

When  the  promiser  himself  occasions  the  impossibility,  it  is 
neither  more  nor  less  than  a  direct  breach  of  the  promise  ;  as 
when  a  soldier  maims,  or  a  servant  disables  himself,  to  get  rid  of 
their  engagements. 

2.  Promises  are  not  binding,  where  the  performance  is  unlawful. 

There  are  two  cases  of  this  :  one,  where  the  unlawfulness  is 
known  to  the  parties,  at  the  time  of  making  the  promise  ;  as 
where  an  assassin  promises  to  despatch  your  rival  or  yonr  ene- 
my ;  a  servant  to  betray  his  master;  a  pimp  to  procure  a  mis- 
tress ;  or  a  friend  to  give  his  assistance  in  a  scheme  of  seduction. 
The  parties  in  these  cases  are  not  obliged  to  perform  what  the 
promise  requires,  because  they  were  under  a  prior  obligation  to 
the  contrary.  From  which  prior  obligation  what  is  there  to  dis- 
charge them  ?  Their  promise — their  own  act  and  deed.  But 
an  obligation,  from  which  a  man  can  discharge  himself  by  his 
own  act  and  deed,  is  no  obligation  at  all.  The  guilt  therefore 
of  such  promises  is  in  the  making,  not  in  the  breaking  them  ; 
and  if,  in  the  interval  betwixt  the  promise  and  the  performance, 
a  man  so  far  recover  his  reflection,  as  to  repent  of  his  engage- 
ments, he  ought  certainly  to  break  through  them. 

The  other  case  is,  where  the  unlawfulness  did  not  exist,  or 
was  not  known,  at  the  time  of  making  the  promise  :  as  where  a 
merchant  promises  his  correspondent  abroad,  to  send  him  a 
ship-load  of  corn  at  a  time  appointed,  and  before  the  time  av- 


PROMISES.  97 

yives,  an  embargo  is  laid  upon  the  exportation  of  corn  : — A  wo- 
man gives  a  promise  of  marriage  ;  before  the  marriage,  she  dis- 
covers that  her  intended  husband  is  too  near  a  kin  to  her,  or  has 
a  wife  yet  living,  in  all  such  cases,  where  the  contrary  does 
not  appear,  it  must  be  presumed  that  the  parties  supposed  what 
they  promised  to  be  lawful,  and  that  the. promise  proceeded  en- 
tirely upon  this  supposition.  The  lawfulness  therefore  becomes 
a  condition  of  the  promise  ;  and  where  the  condition  fails,  the 
obligation  ceases.  Of  the  same  nature,  was  Herod's  promise  to 
his  daughter-in-law,  "  (hat  he  would  give  her  whatever  she  ask- 
"  ed,  even  to  the  half  of  his  kingdom."  The  promise  was  not 
unlawful  in  the  terms  in  which  Herod  delivered  it  ;  and  when  it 
became  so  by  the  daughter's  choice,  by  her  demanding  "  John 
"  the  Baptist's  head,"  Herod  was  discharged  from  the  obliga- 
tion of  it,  for  the  reason  now  laid  down,  as  well  as  for  that  given 
in  the  last  paragraph. 

"  This  rule,  "  that  promises  are  void,  where  the  perfcrmance 
"  is  unlawful,"  extends  also  to  imperfect  obligations  ;  for,  the 
reason  of  the  rule  holds  of  all  obligations.  Thus,  if  you  promise 
a  man  a  place  or  your  vote,  and  he  afterwards  render  himself  un- 
fit fo  receive  either,  you  are  absolved  from  the  obligation  of  your 
promise  ;  or  if  a  better  candidate  appear,  and  it  be  a  case  in 
which  you  ^re  bound  by  oath,  or  otherwise,  to  govern  yourself 
by  the  qualification,  the  ])romise  must  be  broken  through. 

And  here  I  would  recommend  to  young  persons  especially,  a 
caution,  from  the  neglect  of  which  many  involve  themselves  in 
embarrassment  and  disgrace  ;  and  that  is,  "  never  to  give  a 
"  promise,  which  may  interfere  in  the  event  with  their  duty  ;" 
for,  if  it  do  so  interfere,  the  duty  must  be  discharged,  though  at 
the  expense  of  their  promise,  and  not  unusually  of  their  good 
name.  » 

The  specrfic  performance  of  promises  is  reckoned  a  perfect  ob- 
ligation. And  many  casuists  have  laid  it  down  in  opposition  to 
what  has  been  here  asserted,  that  where  a  perfect  and  an  imper- 
fect obligation  clash,  the  perfect  obligation  is  to  be  preferred*  Foj 
13 


9B  PROMISES. 

which  opinion,  however,  there  seems  to  be  no  reason,  but  what 
arises  from  the  terms  "  perfect"  and  "  imperfect,"  the  impro- 
priety of  which  has  been  remarked  above.  The  truth  is,  of  two 
contradictory  obligations,  that  ougiit  to  prevail  which  is  prior  in 
point  of  time. 

It  is  the  performance  being  unlawful,  and  not  any  unlawful- 
ness in  the  subject  or  motive  of  the  promise,  which  destroys  its 
validity  :  therefore  a  bribe,  after  the  vote  is  given  ;  the  wages 
of  prostitution  ;  the  reward  of  any  crime,  after  the  crime  is  com- 
mitted, ought,  if  promised,  to  be  paid.  For  the  sin  and  mis- 
chief, by  this  supposition,  are  over  ;  and  will  be  neither  more 
nor  less  for  the  performance  of  the  promise. 

In  like  manner,  a  promise  does  not  lose  its  obligation  merely 
because  it  proceeded  from  an  wilarfful  motive.  A  certain  per- 
son, in  the  lifetime  of  his  wife,  who  was  then  sick,  paid  his  ad- 
dresses, and  promised  marriage  to  another  woman  ; — the  wife- 
died  ;  and  the  woman  demanded  performance  of  the  promise. 
The  man,  who,  it  seems,  had  changed  his  mind,  either  felt  or 
pretended  doubts  concerning  the  obligation  of  such  a  promise, 
and  referred  his  case  to  Bishop  Sanderson,  the  most  eminent,  in 
this  kind  of  knowledge,  of  his  time.  Bishop  Sanderson,  after 
writing  a  dissertation  upon  the  question,  adjudged  the  promise 
to  be  void.  In  which,  however,  upon  our  principles,  he  was 
wrong  :  for,  however  criminal  the  affection  might  be,  which  in- 
duced the  promise,  the  performance,  when  it  was  demanded, 
was  lawful  ;  which  is  the  only  lawfulness  required. 

A  promise  cannot  be  deemed  unlawful,  where  it  produces, 
when  performed,  no  effect  beyond  what  would  have  taken  place 
bad  the  promise  never  been  made.  And  this  is  the  single  case» 
m  which  the  obligation  of  a  promise  will  justify  a  conduct,  which, 
unless  it  had  been  prwjiised,  would  be  unjust.  A  captive  may 
lawfully  recover  his  liberty,  by  a  promise  of  neutrality  ;  for  his 
conqueror  takes  nothing  by  the  promise,  which  be  might  not 
have  secured  bv  his  death  or  confinement  ;  and  neutrality  would 
be  innocent  in  him,  although  criminal  in  another.     It  is  manifest. 


PROMISES.  ^9 

kowever,  that  promises  which  come  into  the  place  of  coercion, 
can  extend  no  further  than  to  passive  compliances  ;  for  coercion, 
itself  could  compel  no  more.  Upon  the  same  principle,  promis- 
es of  secrecy  ought  not  to  be  violated,  although  the  public  would 
derive  advantage  from  the  discovery.  Such  promises  contain 
no  unlawfulness  in  them,  to  destroy  their  obligation  ;  for,  as  the 
information  would  not  have  been  imparted  upon  any  other  con- 
dition, the  public  lose  nothing  by  the  promise,  which  they  would 
have  gained  without  it. 

3.  Promises  are  not  binding,  where  thej  contradict  a  former 
vromise. 

Because  the  performance  is  then  unlawful ;  which  resolves 
this  case  into  the  last, 

4.  Promises  are  not  binding  before  acceptance  ;  that  is,  before 
^iiotice  given  to  the  promisee  ;  for,  where  the  promise  is  benefi- 
i«;ial,  if  notice  be  given,  acceptance  may  be  presumed  Before 
the  promise  be  communicated  to  the  promisee,  it  is  the  same  on- 
ly as  a  resoluticn  in  the  mind  of  the  promiser,  which  may  be 
■altered  at  pleasure.  For  no  expectation  has  been  excited,  there- 
fore none  can  be  dis&ppointed„ 

But  suppose  I  declare  my  intention  to  a  third  person,  who, 
without  any  authority  from  me,  conveys  my  declaration  to  the 
pron?i>x'e  ;  is  that  such  a  notice  as  will  be  binding  upon  me  ?  It 
certainly  is  not  ;  for  I  have  not  done  that  which  constitutes  the 
■essence  of  a  promise, — I  have  not  voluntarily  excited  expecta- 
tion. 

5.  Promises  are  not  binding,  which  are  released  by  the  prom- 
isee. 

This  is  evident  :  but  it  may  be  sometimes  doubted  who  is  the 
promisee.  If  I  give  a  promise  to  A,  of  a  place  or  vote  for  B  ; 
as  to  a  fadier  for  his  son  ;  to  an  uncle  for  his  nephew  ;  to  a  friend 
of  mine,  for  a  relation  or  friend  of  his  ;  then  A  is  the  promisee^ 
whose  consent  I  must  obtain,  to  release  me  from  the  engagement. 

If  I  promise  a  place  or  vote  to  B  by  A,  that  is,  if  A  be  a  mes- 
r,enger  to  convey  the  promises  ^-^  'f  1  should  say,  "  You  may  teM 


100  PROMISEi?. 

•'  B  that  he  shall  have  this  place,  or  may  depend  upon  my  vote  ;" 
or  if  A  be  employed  to  introduce  B's  request,  and  I  answer  in 
any  terms  which  amount  to  a  compliance  with  it,  then  B  is  tlie 
promisee. 

Promises  to  one  person,  for  the  benefit  of  another,  are  not  re- 
leased by  the  death  of  the  promisee  :  for,  his  death  neither 
makes  tlie  performance  impracticable,  nor  implies  any  consent 
to  release  the  promiser  from  it. 

6.  Erroneous  promises  are  not  binding  in  certain  cases  ;   as, 

1.  Where  the  error  proceeds  from  the  mistake  or  misrepre- 
sentation of  the  promisee. 

Because  a  promise  evidently  supposes  the  truth  of  the  account, 
which  the  promisee  relates  in  order  to  ob^in  it.  A  beggar  so- 
licits your  charity  by  a  story  of  the  most  pitiable  distress  ;  you 
promise  to  relieve  him,  if  he  will  call  again  : — In  the  interval 
you  discover  his  story  to  be  made  up  of  lies  ; — this  discovery, 
no  doubt,  releases  you  from  your  promise.  One  who  wants 
your  service,  describes  the  business  or  office  for  which  he  would 
engage  you  ; — you  promise  to  undertake  it  :  when  you  come  to 
enter  upon  it,  you  find  the  profits  less,  the  labour  more,  or  some 
material  circumstance  different  from  the  account  he  gave  you  : — • 
In  such  case  you  are  not  bound  by  your  promise. 

2.  When  the  promise  is  uiideistood  by  the  promisee  to  pro- 
ceed upon  a  certain  supposition,  or  when  the  promiser  thought 
he  so  understood  it,  and  that  supposition  turns  out  to  be  false  ; 
then  the  promise  is  not  binding. 

This  intricate  rule  will  be  best  explained  by  an  example.  A 
father  receives  an  acount  from  abroad,  of  the  death  of  his  only 
son  ; — soon  after  which,  he  promises  his  fortune  to  his  nephew. — 
The  account  turns  out  to  be  false.  The  father,  we  say,  is  re- 
leased from  his  promise  ;  not  merely  because  he  never  would 
have  made  it,  had  he,  known  tlie  truth  of  tlie  case, — for  that 
alone  will  not  do  ; — -but  because  the  nephew  also  himself  under- 
stood the  promise  to  proceed  upon  the  supposition  of  his  cousin's 
death  ;  or  at  least,  his  uncle  thought  he  so  understood  it ;  and 


PROMISES.  101 

could  not  think  otherwise.  The  promise  proceeded  upon  this 
supposition  in  the  promiser's  own  apprehension,  and  as  he  be- 
lieved, in  the  apprehension  of  both  parties  :  and  this  belief  of 
his,  is  the  precise  circumstance  which  sets  him  free.  The  found- 
ation of  the  rule  is  plainly  this  :  a  man  is  bound  only  to  satisfy 
the  expectation  which  he  intended  to  excite  ;  whatever  condi- 
tion therefore  he  intended  to  subject  that  expectation  to,  becomes 
an  essential  condition  of  the  promise. 

Errors,  which  come  not  within  this  description,  do  not  annul 
the  obligation  of  a  promise.  I  promise  a  candidate  my  vote  ; 
presently  another  candidate  appears,  for  whom  I  certainly  would 
have  reserved  it,  had  I  been  acquainted  with  his  design.  Here 
therefore,  as  before,  my  promise  proceeded  from  an  error  ;  and 
I  never  should  have  given  such  a  promise,  had  I  been  aware  of 
the  truth  of  the  case,  as  it  has  turned  out. — But  the  promisee  did 
not  know  this  ; — he  did  not  receive  the  promise  subject  to  any 
such  condition,  or  as  proceeding  from  any  such  supposition  ; — 
nor  did  I  at  the  time  imagine  he  so  received  it.  This  error, 
therefore,  of  mine,  must  fall  upon  my  own  head,  and  the  promise 
be  observed  notwithstanding.  A  father  promises  a  certain  tor- 
tune  with  his  daughter,  supposing  himself  to  be  worth  so  much  : — 
his  circumstances  turn  out,  upon  examination,  worse  than  he  was 
aware  of.  Here  again  the  promise  was  erroneous,  but,  for  the 
reason  assigned  in  the  last  case,  will  nevertheless  be  obligatory. 
The  case  of  erroneous  promises  is  attended  with  some  difficul- 
ty :  for  to  allow  every  mistake,  or  change  of  circumstances,  to 
dissolve  the  obligation  of  a  promise,  would  be  to  allow  a  lati- 
tude, which  might  evacuate  the  force  of  almost  all  promises  ; 
and,  on  the  other  hand,  to  gird  the  obligation  so  tight  as  to  make 
no  allowances  for  manifest  and  fundamental  errors,  would,  in 
many  instances,  be  productive  of  great  hardship  and  absurdityo 

it  has  long  been  controverted  amongst  moralists,  whether 
promises  be  binding,  which  are  extorted  by  violence  or  fear. 
The  obligation  of  all  promises  results,  we  have  seen,  from  the 


102  PROMISES. 

necessity  or  tlie  use  of  that  confidence  Avhich  mankind  repose  in 
thetn.  The  question,  therefore,  whether  these  promises  are 
binding,  will  depend  upon  this,  whether  mankind,  upon  the 
whole,  are  benefited  by  the  confidence  placed  in  such  promises  ? 
A  highway-man  attacks  you, — and  being  disappointed  of  his 
booty,  threatens  or  prepares  to  murder  you  ; — you  promise,  with 
many  solemn  asseverations,  that  if  he  will  spare  your  life,  he' 
-shall  find  a  purse  of  money  left  for  him,  at  a  place  appoint- 
ed ; — upon  the  faith  of  this  promise,  he  forbears  from  further 
violence.  Now,  your  life  was  saved  by  the  confidence  reposed 
in  a  promise  extorted  by  fear  ;  and  the  lives  of  many  others 
may  be  saved  by  the  same.  This  is  a  good  consequence.  On 
the  other  hand,  a  confidence  in  promises  like  these  would  great- 
ly facilitate  the  perpetration  of  robberies  :  they  might  be  made 
the  instruments  of  almost  unlimited  extortion.  This  is  a  bad 
consequence  ;  and  in  the  question  between  the  importance  of 
these  opposite  consequences,  resides  the  doubt  concerning  the 
obligation  of  such  promises. 

There  are  other  cases  which  are  plainer ;  as  where  a  magis- 
trate confines  a  disturber  of  the  public  peace  in  gaol,  till  he 
promise  to  behave  better  ;  or  a  prisoner  of  war  promise.^,  if  set 
at  liberty,  to  return  within  a  certain  time.  These  promises,  say 
moralists,  are  binding,  because  the  violence  or  duress  is  just ; 
but  the  truth  is,  because  there  is  the  same  use  of  confidence  in 
ihese  promises,  as  of  confidence  in  the  promises  of  a  person  at 
perfect  liberty. 

Vows  are  promises  to  God.  The  obligation  cannot  be  made 
jout  upon  the  same  principle  as  that  of  other  jjromises.  The  vi- 
olation of  them,  nevertheless,  implies  a  want  of  reverence  to  the 
Supreme  Being,  which  is  enough  to  make  it  sinful. 

There  appears  no  command  or  encouragement  in  the  Chris- 
lian  Scriptures  to  make  vows,  much  less  any  authority  to  break 
through  them  when  they  are  made.  The  few  instances*  of  vows 
which  we  read  of  in  the  New  Testament,  were  religiously  ob- 
served. 

»  Acts,  xvijj.  18.  xxi.  23. 


CONTRACTS.  lOS 

The^-ules  we  have  laid  down  concerning  promises,  are  appli- 
cable to  vows.  Thus  Jephthah's  vow,  taken  in  the  sense  in 
which  that  transaction  is  commonly  understood,  was  not  binding  ) 
because  the  performance,  in  that  contingency,  became  unlawful. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

CONTRACTS. 

A  CONTRACT  is  a  mutual  promise.  The  obligation  there- 
fore of  contracts,  the  sense  in  which  they  are  to  be  interpreted, 
and  the  cases  where  they  are  not  binding,  will  be  the  same  as  of 
promises. 

From  the  principle  established  in  the  last  chapter,  "  that  the 
•'■obligation  of  promises  is  to  be  measured  by  the  expectation 
"  which  the  promisei  any  how  voluntarily  and  knowingly  ex- 
"  cites,"  results  a  rule,  which  governs  the  construction  of  all 
contracts,  and  is  capable,  from  the  simplicity  of  it,  of  being  ap-v 
plied  with  great  ease  and  certainty  ;  viz.  That, 

Whatever  is  expected  by  one  side,  and  known  to  be  so  expected 
ly  the  other,  is  to  be  deemed  a  part  or  condition  of  the  contract. 

The  several  kinds  of  contracts,  and  the  order  in  which  we  prO"- 
pose  to  consider  them,  may  be  exhibited  at  one  view,  thus  : 


rSale. 
Hazard. 


Contracts  of- 


Lending  of     |  m^^J"'""'"^'"  Property. 

Service. 
Commissions. 
Partnership. 
Oflices. 


Labc 


104  CONTRACTS  OF  SALE. 


GHAPTEK  Vri. 

CONTRACTS  OF  SALE. 

THE  rule  of  justice,  vvLicli  wants  most  to  be  inculcated  in  llie 
making  of  bargains,  is,  that  the  seller  is  bound  in  conscience  to 
disclose  the  faults  of  what  he  olTers  to  sale.  Amongst  other 
methods  of  proving  this,  one  may  be  the  following  : 

I  suppose  it  will  be  allowed,  that  to  advance  a  direct  falsehood 
in  recommendation  of  our  wares,  by  ascribing  to  them  some  qual- 
ity which  we  know  that  they  have  not,  is  dishonest.  Now  com- 
pare with  this  the  designed  concealment  of  some  fault  which  wc 
know  that  they  have.  The  motives  and  the  effects  of  actions 
are  the  only  points  of  comparison  in  which  their  moral  quality 
can  differ  ;  but  the  motive  in  these  two  cases  is  the  same,  vrz. 
to  procure  a  higher  price  than  we  expect  otherwise  to  obtain  : 
The  effect,  that  is,  the  prejudice  to  the  buyer,  is  also  the  same  ; 
for  he  finds  himself  equally  out  of  pocket  by  his  bargain,  wheth- 
er the  commodity,  when  he  gets  home  ^vilh  it,  turn  out  worse 
thsn  he  had  supposed,  by  the  want  of  some  quality  which  he  ex- 
pected, or  the  discovery  of  some  fault  which  he  did  not  expect. 
If  therefore  actions  be  the  same,  as  to  all  moral  purposes,  which 
proceed  from  the  same  motives,  and  produce  the  same  effect?,^ 
it  is  making  a  distinction  without  a  difference,  to  esteem  it  a 
cheat  to  magnify  beyond  the  truth  the  virtues  of  what  we  have  to 
sell,  but  none  to  conceal  its  faults. 

It  adds  to  the  value  of  this  kind  of  honesty,   that  the  faults  of 

many  things  are  of  a  nature  not  to  be  known  by  any  but  by  the 

persons  who  have  used  them  ;  so  that  the  buyer  has  no  security 

from  imposition  but  in  the   ingenuousiieiS  and  integrity  of  the 

seller. 

There  is  one  exception,  however,  to  this  rule,  namely,  where 

the  silence  of  the  seller  implies  some  fault  in  the  thing  to  be 


CONTKACTS  OF  SALE.  105 

sold,  and  where  the  buyer  has  a  compensation  in  the  price  for 
the  risk  which  hfe  runs  ;  as  where  a  horse,  in  a  London  reposito- 
ry, is  sold  by  public  auction  without  warranty,  the  want  of  war- 
ranty is  notice  of  some  unsoundness,  and  produces  a  proportion- 
able abatement  in  the  price. 

To  this  of  concealing  the  faults  of  what  we  want  to  put  oflf, 
may  be  referred  the  practice  of  passing  bad  money.  This 
practice  we  sometimes  hear  defended  by  a  vulgar  excuse,  that  we 
have  taken  the  money  for  good,  and  must  therefore  get  rid  of  it. 
Which  excuse  is  much  the  same  as  if  one,  who  had  been  robbed 
upon  the  highway,  should  imagine  he  had  a  right  to  reimburse 
himself  out  of  the  pocket  of  the  first  traveller  he  met  ;  the  jus- 
tice of  which  reasoning  the  traveller  possibly  may  not  compre- 
hend. 

Where  there  exists  no  monopoly  or  combination,  the  market- 
price  is  always  a  fair  price,  because  it  will  always  be  propor- 
tionable to  the  use  and  scarcity  of  the  article.  Hence,  there 
need  be  no  scruple  about  demanding  or  taking  the  market-price  ; 
and  all  those  expressions,  "  provisions  are  extravagantly  dear," 
^'  corn  bears  an  unreasonable  price,"  and  the  like,  import  no 
unfairness  or  unreasonableness  in  the  seller. 

If  your  tailor  or  your  draper  charge,  or  even  ask  of  you,  more 
for  a  suit  of  clothes  than  the  market-price,  you  complain  that 
you  are  imposed  upon  ;  you  pronounce  the  tradesman  who  makes 
such  a  charge  dishonest  ;  although  as  the  man's  goods  were  his 
own,  and  he  had  a  right  to  prescribe  the  terms  upon  which  he 
vvould  consent  to  part  with  them,  it  may  be  questioned  what  dis- 
honesty there  can  be  in  the  case,  and  wherein  the  imposition 
consists.  Whoever  opens  a  shop,  or  in  any  manner  exposes 
goods  to  public  sale,  virtually  engages  to  deal  with  his  custom- 
ers at  a  market-price  ;  because  it  is  upon  the  faith  and  idea  of 
such  an  engagement  that  any  one  comes  withii^his  shop-doors, 
or  oflers  to  treat  with  him.  This  is  expected  by  the  buyer  ;  is 
known  to  be  so  expected  by  the  seller  ;  which  is  enough,  ac- 
cording to  the  rule  delivered  above,  to  make  it  a  part  of  the 
11 


106  CONTRACTS  OF  SALi:. 

contract  between  tlicni,  though  not  a  syllable  be  said  about  It. 
The  breach  of  this  implied  contract  constitutes  the  fraud  inquir- 
ed after. 

Hence,  if  you  disclaim  any  such  engagement,  you  may  set 
what  value  you  please  upon  your  property.  If,  upon  being 
asked  to  sell  a  house,  you  answer  that  the  house  suits  your  fan- 
cy or  ronvenicncy,  and  that  you  will  not  turn  yourself  out  of  it 
under  such  a  price  ;  the  price  fixed  may  be  double  of  what  the 
house  cost,  or  would  (etch  at  a  public  sale,  without  any  imputa- 
tion of  injustice  or  extortion  upon  you. 

If  the  thing  sold  be  damaged,  or  perish  between  the  sale  and 
the  delivery,  ought  the  buyer  to  bear  the  loss,  or  the  seller  ? 
This  will  depend  upon  the  particular  construction  of  the  con^ 
tract.  If  the  seller,  either  expressly,  or  by  implication,  or  by 
custom,  engage  to  deliver  the  goods  ;  as,  if  I  buy  a  set  of  china, 
and  the  china-man  ask.  me  to  what  place  he  shall  bring  or  send 
them,  and  they  are  broken  in  the  conveyance,  the  seller  must 
abide  by  the  loss.  If  the  thing  sold  remain  with  ihe  seller,  at 
the  instance  or  for  the  conveniency  of  the  buyer,  then  the  buyer 
undertakes  the  risk  ;  as,  if  I  buy  a  horse,  and  mention  that  I 
will  send  for  it  on  such  a  day,  (which  is  in  effect  desiring  that  it 
may  continue  with  the  seller  till  I  do  send  for  it,)  then  whatev- 
er misfortune  befalls  the  horse  in  the  mean  time,  must  be  at  my 
cost. 

And  here,  once  for  all,  I  would  observe,  that  innumerable 
questions  of  this  sort  are  determined  solely  by  custom;  not  that 
custom  possesses  any  proper  auihority  to  alter  or  ascertain  the 
nature  of  right  and  wrong,  but  because  the  contracting  parties 
are  presumed  to  include  in  their  stipulation  all  the  conditions 
which  custom  has  annexed  to  contracts  of  the  same  sort  ;  and 
•when  the  usage  is  notorious,  and  no  exception  made  to  it,  this 
presumption  is  generally  agreeable  to  the  fact.* 

*  It  happens  here,  as  in  aiaj-  cases,  that  what  the  parties  ought  to  do, 
and  what  a  jiidge^or  arbitrator  would  award  to  be  done,  may  be  very 
diffrtreut.     What  the  parties  ought  to  do  by  virtue  of  their  contract,  do- 


CONTRACTS  OF  HAZARD.  107 

If  I  order  a  pipe  of  port  from  a  wine-merchant  abroad  :  at 
what  period  the  property  passes  from  the  merchant  to  me  ;  wheth- 
•er  upon  delivery  of  the  wine  at  the  merchant's  warehouse  ;  upon 
its  being  put  on  ship-board  at  Oporto  ;  upon  the  arrival  of  the 
ship  in  England  ;  at  its  destined  port  ;  or  not  till  the  wine  be 
committed  to  my  servants,  or  deposited  in  my  cellar  ;  arc  all 
questions  which  admit  of  no  decision,  but  what  custom  points 
out.  Whence  injustice,  as  well  as  law,  what  is  called  the  custom 
"rf  merchants,  regulates  the  construction  of  mercantile  concerns. 


CHAPTER  VIIL 

CONTRACTS  OF  HAZARD. 

BY  contracts  of  hazard,  I  mean  gaming  and  insurance. 

What  some  say  of  this  kind  of  contracts,  '•'  that  one  side 
'-"  ought  not  to  have  any  advantage  over  the  other,"  is  neither 
practicable  nor  true.  It  is  not  practicable  ;  for  that  perfect 
■equality  of  skill  and  judgment  which  this  rule  requires,  is  seldons 
to  be  met  with.  I  might  not  have  it  in  my  power  to  play  with 
fairness  a  game  at  cards,  billiards,  or  tennis,  lay  a  wager  at -a 
liorse-race,  or  underwrite  a  policy  of  insurance,  once  in  a  twelve- 
month, if  I  mjjst  wait  till  I  meet  with  a  person,  whose  art,  skill,  and 
judgment  in  these  matters,  is  neither  greater  nor  less  than  my 
own.  Nor  is  this  equality  requisite  to  the  justice  of  the  con- 
tract. One  party  may  give  to  the  other  the  whole  of  the  stake^ 
if  he' please,  and  the  other  party  may  justly  accept  it,  if  it  be 
given  him  ;  much  more   therefore  may  one  give  to  the  other  a 

pends  upon  their  consciousness  at  the  time  of  making  it :  whereas  a  third 
person  finds  it  necessary  to  found  his  judgment  upon  presumptions,  ■which 
presumptions  may  be  false,  although  the  mest  probable  that  he  couM 
proceed  by. 


108  CONTRACTS  OF  HAZARD. 

part  of  the  stake,  or,  what  is  exactly  the  same  thing,  an  advan- 
tage in  the  chance  of  winning  the  whole. 

The  proper  restriction  is,  that  neither  side  have  an  advantage 
bv  means  of  which  the  other  is  not  aware  ;  for  this  is  an  advan- 
tage taken  without  being  given.  Although  the  event  be  still  an 
uncertainty,  your  advantage  in  the  chance  has  a  certain  value  ; 
and  so  much  of  the  stake  as  that  value  amounts  to,  is  taken  from 
your  adversary  without  his  knowledge,  and  therefore  without  his 
consent.  If  1  sit  down  to  a  game  at  whist,  and  have  an  advan- 
tage over  the  adversary,  by  means  of  a  better  memory,  closer 
attention,  or  a  superior  knowledge  of  the  rules  and  chance?  of 
the  game,  the  advantage  is  fair,  because  it  is  obtained  by  means 
of  which  the  adversary  is  aware  ;  for  he  is  aware,  when  he  sits 
down  with  me,  that  I  shall  exert  the  skill  that  I  possess  to  the 
utmost.  But  if  I  gain  an  advantage,  by  packing  the  cards, 
glancing  my  eye  into  the  adversaries'  hands,  or  by  concerted 
signals  with  my  partner,  it  is  a  dishonest  advantage,  because  it 
depends  upon  means  which  the  adversary  never  suspects  that  I 
make  use  of. 

The  same  distinction  holds  of  all  contracts  into  which  chance 
enters.  If  I  lay  a  wager  at  a  horse-race,  founded  upon  the  con- 
jecture I  form  from  the  appearance,  and  character,  and  breed  of 
the  horse,  I  am  justly  entitled  to  any  advantage  which  my  judg- 
ment gives  me  ;  but,  if  I  carry  on  a  clandestine  correspondence 
with  the  jockies,  and  find  out  from  them  tliat  a  trial  has  been  ac- 
tually made,  or  that  it  is  settled  beforehand  wliich  horse  shall 
win  the  race,  all  such  information  is  so  much  fraud,  because  de- 
rived from  sources  which  the  other  did  not  suspect  when  he  pro- 
posed or  accepted  the  wager. 

In  speculations  in  trade,  or  in  the  stocks,  if  I  exercise  ray 
judgment  upon  the  general  aspect  and  posture  of  public  affairs, 
and  deal  with  a  person  who  conducts  himself  by  the  same  sort 
of  judgment,  the  contract  has  all  the  equality  in  it  which  is  ne- 
cessary ;  but,  if  I  have  access  to  secrets  of  state  at  home,  or 
private  advice  of  some  decisive  measure  or  event  abroad,  I  can;- 


LENDING  OF  INCONSUMABLE  PROPERTY.  109 

not  avail  myself  of  these  advantages  with  justice,  because  they 
are  excluded  by  the  contract,  which  proceeded  upon  the  suppo- 
sition that  I  had  no  such  advantage. 

In  insurances,  where  the  underwriter  computes  his  risk  entire- 
ly from  the  account  given  by  the  person  insured,  it  is  absolutely 
necessary  to  the  justice  and  validity  of  the  contract,  that  this 
account  be  exact  and  complete. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

CONTRACTS  OF  LENDING  OF  INCONSUMABLE  PROPERTY. 

WHEN  the  identical  loan  is  to  be  returned,  as  a  book,  a 
horse,  a 'harpsichord,  it  is  called  inconsumable,  in  opposition  to 
corn,  wine,  money,  ari.d  those  things  which  perish,  or  are  parted 
with  in  the  use,  and  can  therefore  only  be  returned  in  kind. 

The  questions  under  this  head  are  few  and  simple.  The  first 
is,  h'  the  thing  lent  be  lost  or  damaged,  who  ought  to  bear  the 
loss  or  damage  ?  If  it  be  damaged  by  the  use,  or  by  accident 
in  the  use,  for  which  it  was  lent,  the  lender  must  bear  it  ;  as,  if 
I  hire  a  job-coach,  the  wear,  tear,  and  soiling  of  the  coach  must 
belong  to  the  lender  ;  or  a  horse^  to  go  a  particular  journey,  and, 
in  going  the  proposed"journey,  the  horse  die,  or  be  lamed,  the 
loss  must  be  the  lender's  :  on  the  contrar}^  if  the  damage  be 
occasioned  by  the  fault  of  the  borrower,  or  by  accident  in  son>e 
use  for  which  it  was  not  lent,  then  the  borrower  must  make  it 
good  ,  as,  if  the  coach  be  overturned  or  broken  to  pieces  by  the 
carelessness  of  your  coachman  ;  or  the  horse  be  hired  to  take  a 
morning's  ride  upon,  and  you  go  a-hunting  vfith  him,  or  leap 
him  over  hedges,  or  put  him  into  your  cart  or  carriage,  and  he 
be  strained,  or  staked,  or  galled,  or  accidentally  hurt,  or  drop 
down  dead,  whilst  you  arc  tl)u=  tiding  him  :  you  must  make  sat- 
isfaction to  the  owner. 


110  LENDING  OF  INCO.NSUMABLE  PllOPERTY. 

The  two  cases  are  distinguished  by  this  circumstance,  that  in 
one  case  the  owner  foresees  the  damage  or  risk,  and  tlierelore 
consents  to  undertake  it  ;  in  the  other  case  he  does  not. 

It  is  possible  that  an  estate  or  a  house  may,  during  the  term 
of  a  lease,  be  so  increased  or  diminished  in  its  value,  as  to  l^e- 
come  worth  much  more,  or  much  less,  than  the  rent  agreed  to  be 
paid  for  it.  In  some  of  which  cases  it  may  bu  doubted,  to  whom, 
of  natural  right,  the  advantage  or  disadvantage  belongs.  The 
rule  of  justice  seems  to  be  this  :  if  the  alteration  might  be  ex- 
pected by  the  parlies,  the  hirer  must  take  the  consequence  ;  if  it 
could  not,  the  owner.  An  orchard,  or  a  vineyard,  or  a  mine,  or 
a  fishery,  or  a  decoy,  may  this  year  yield  nothing,  or  next  to 
nothing,  yet  the  tenant  shall  pay  his  rent  ;  and  if  the  next  year 
produce  tenfold  the  wsual  profit,  no  more  shall  be  demanded  • 
because  the  produce  is  in  its  nature  precarious,  and  this  varia- 
tion might  be  expected.  If  an  estate  in  the  fens  of  Lincolnshire 
or  the  isle  of  Ely,  be  overflowed  with  water  so  as  to  be  inca- 
pable of  occupation,  the  tenant,  notwithstanding,  is  bound  by  the 
lease  ;  because  he  entered  into  it  with  a  knowledge  and  fore- 
sight of  this  danger.  On  the  other  hand,  if,  by  the  irruption  of 
Jhe  sea  into  a  country  where  it  was  i^ver  known  to  have  come 
before,  by  the  change  of  the  course  of  a  river,  the  fall  of  a  rock- 
the  breaking  out  of  a  volcano,  the  bursting  of  a  moss,  the  incursions 
of  an  enemy,  or  by  a  mortal  contagion  amongst  the  cattle  ;  if, 
by  means  like  these,  the  estate  change,  or  lose  its  value,  the  loss 
shall  fall  upon  the  owner  ;  that  is,  the  tenant  shall  either  be  dis- 
charged from  his  agreement,  or  be  entitled  to  an  abatement  of 
rent.  A  hotise  in  London,  by  the  building  of  a  bridge,  the 
opening  of  a  new  road  or  street;  may  become  of  ten  times  its 
former  value  ;  and,  by  contrary  causes,  may  be  as  much  reduc- 
ed in  value  :  here,  also,  as  before,  the  owner,  not  the  hirer,  shall 
be  affected  by  the  alteration.  The  reason  upon  which  our  de- 
termination proceeds  is  this,  that  changes  such  as  these,  being 
neither  forseen  nor  provided  for,  by  the  contracting  parties,  form 
no  part  or  condition  of  the  contract  ;  and  therefore  ought  to  have 


LENDING  OF  MONEY.  1 1 1 

the  same  effect  as  if  no  contract  at  all  had  been  made,  (for  none 
was  made  with  respect  to  tJvem,)  that  is,  ou»;ht  to  fall  upon  the 


owner. 


CHAPTER  X. 

CONTRACTS  CONCERNING  THE  LENDING  OF  MONEY. 

THERE  exists  no  reason  in  the  law  of  nature,  why  a  man 
should  not  be  paid  for  the  lending  of  his  money,  as  well  as  of 
any  other  property  into  which  the  money  might  be  converted. 

The  scruples  that  have  been  eniertained  upon  this  head,  and 
upon  the  foundation  of  which  the  receiving  of  interest  or  usury 
(for  they  formerly  meant  the  same  thing)  was  once  prohibited  in 
almost  all  Christian  countries,*  arose  from  a  passage  in  the  law 
of  Moses,  Deuteronomy  xxiii.  19,  20  :  "  Thou  shalt  not  lend 
"  upon  usury  to  thy  brother  ;  usury  of  money,  usury  of  victuals, 
"  usury  of  any  thing  that  is  lent  upon  usury  :  unto  a  stranger 
"  thou  may  est  lend  upon  usury  ;  but  unto  thy  brother  thou  shali 
"  not  lend  upon  usury." 

This  prohibition  is  now  generally  understood  to  have  been  in- 
tended for  the  Jews  alone,  as  part  of  the  civil  or  political  law  of 
their  nation,  and  calculated  to  preserve  that  distribution  of 
property  to  which  many  of  their  institutions  were  subservient  : 
as  the  marriage  of  an  heiress  within  her  own  tribe  ;  of  a  widow 
who  was  left  childless,  to  her  husband's  brother  ;  the  year  of 
jubilee,  when  alienated  estates  revf;rted  to  the  family  of  the  ori- 
ginal proprietor  ; — regulations  which  were  never  thought  to  be 
binding  upon  any  but  the  commonwealth  of  Israel. 

*  By  a  statute  of  James  the  First,  interest  above  ei»ht  pounds  per 
cent,  was  prohibited,  (and,  consequently,  under  that  rate  allowed,)  with 
this  saje  provision,  That  this  stalute  shall  not  be  construed  or  expounded 
in  alhic  the  prartice  of  icsurr/  in  point  of  religion  or  conscience. 


lliJ  CONTRACTS  CONCERNING  THE 

This  interpretation  is  confirmed,  1  think,  beyord  all  (Contro- 
versy, by  the  distinction  made  in  the  law  between  a  Jew  and  a 
foreigner  : — "  unto  a  stranger  thou  mayest  lend  upon  usury,  but 
"  unto  thy  brother  thou  mayest  not  lend  upon  usury  ;"  a  distinc- 
tion which  could  hardly  have  been  admitted  into  a  law,  which 
the  Divine  Author  intended  to  be  of  moral  and  of  universal  obli- 
gation. 

The  rate  of  interest  has  in  most  countries  been  regulated  by 
law.  The  Roman  Law  allowed  of  twelve  pounds  per  cent, 
which  Justinian  reduced  at  one  stroke  to  four  pounds.  A  statute 
of  the  thirteenth  year  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  which  was  the  first 
that  tolerated  the  receiving  of  interest  in  England  at  all,  restrain- 
ed it  to  ten  pounds  per  cent.  ;  a  statute  of  James  the  First,  to 
eight  pounds  ;  of  Charles  the  Second,  to  six  pounds  ;  of  Queen 
Anne,  to  five  pounds,  on  pain  of  forfeiture  of  treble  the  value  of 
the  money  lent  :  at  which  rate  and  penalty  the  matter  now 
stands.  The  policy  of  these  regulations  is,  to  check  the  power 
of  accumulating  wealth  without  industry  ;  to  give  encouragement 
to  trade,  by  enabling  adventurers  in  it  to  borroAV  money  at  a 
moderate  price  ;  and  of  late  years,  to  enable  the  state  to  borrow 
the  subject's  money  itself. 

Compound  interest,  though  forbidden  by  the  law  of  England, 
is  agreeable  enough  to  natural  equity  ;  for  interest  detained 
after  it  is  due,  becomes,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  part  of  the 
sum  lent. 

It  is  a  question  which  sometimes  occurs,  how  money  borrowed 
in  one  country  ought  to  be  paid  in  another,  where  the  relative 
value  of  the  precious  metals  is  not  the  same.  For  example, 
suppose  I  borrow  a  hundred  guineas  in  London,  where  each  guin- 
ea is  worth  one  and  twenty  shillings,  and  meet  my  creditor  in  the 
East  Indies,  where  a  guinea  is  worth  no  more  perhaps  than  nine- 
teen, is  it  a  satisfaction  of  the  debt  to  return  a  hundred  guineas  ? 
or  must  I  make  up  so  many  times  one  and  twenty  shillings  ?  I 
should  think  the  latter  ;  for  it  must  be  presumed,  that  my  cred- 
itor, had  he  not  lent  me  bis  guineas,  would  have  disposed  of  them 


LANDING  OP  MONEY.  US 

t!)  such  a  manner  as  to  have  now  had,  in  the  place  of  them,  so 
many  one^and  twenty  shillings  ;  and  the  question  supposes  that 
he  neither  intended,  nor  ought  to  be  a  sufiferer,  by  parting  with 
his  money  t"^  me. 

When  the  relative  Value  of  coin  is  altered  by  an  act  of  the 
state,  if  the  alteration  would  haue  extended  to  the  identical  pic° 
ces  which  were  lent,  it  is  enough  to  return  an  equal  number  of 
the  same  denomination,  or  their  present  value  in  any  other.  As, 
if  guineas  were  reduced  by  act  of  parliament  to  twenty  shillings, 
so  many  twenty  shillings,  as  I  borrowed  guineas,  would  be  a  just 
re-payment.  It  would  be  otherwise,  if  the  reduction  was  owing 
to  a  debasement  of  the  coin  ;  for  then  respect  ought  to  be  had 
to  the  comparative  value  of  the  old  guinea  and  the  new. 

Whoever  borrows  money,  is  bound  in  conscience  to  repay  it. 
This,  every  man  can  see  ;  but  every  man  cannot  see,  or  does 
not,  however,  reflect,  that  he  is,  in  consequence,  also  bound  to 
use  the  means  necessary  to  enable  himself  to  repay  it.  "  If  he 
"  pay  the  monej  when  he  has  it,  or  has  it  to  spafe,  he  does  all 
*'  that  an  honest  man  can  do,"  and  all,  he  imagines,  that  is  re- 
quired of  him  ;  whilst  the  previous  measures,  which  are  neces- 
sary  to  furnish  him  with  the  money,  he  makes  no  part  of  his  care, 
nor  observes  to  be  as  much  his  duty  as  the  other  ;  such  as  selling 
a  family-seat,  or  a  family-estate,  contracting  his  plan  of  expense, 
laying  down  his  equipage,  reducing  the  number  of  his  servants, 
or  any  of  those  humiliating  sacrifices,  which  justice  requires  of  a 
tiian  in  debt,  the  moment  he  perceives  that  he  has  no  reasonable 
prospect  of  paying  his  debts  without  them.  An  expectation 
which  depends  upon  the  continuance  of  his  own  life,  will  not 
satisfy  an  honest  man,  if  a  better  provision  be  in  his  power  :  for 
it  is  a  breach  of  faith  to  subject  a  creditor,  when  we  can  help  it, 
to  the  risk  of  our  life,  be  the  event  what  it  will  ;  that  not  being 
the  security  to  which  credit  was  given. 

I  know  few  subjects  which  have  been  more  misunderstoodj 
than  the  law  which  authorizes  the  imprisonment  of  insolvent 
debtors.  It  has  been  represented  as  a  gratuitous  cruelty,  which 
15 


1*14  LENDING  OF  MONEY. 

contributes  nothing  to  the  reparation  of  the  creditor's  loss,  or  t» 
the  advantage  of  the  community.  This  prejudice  arises  princi- 
pally from  considering  the  sending  of  a  debtor  to  gaol,  as  an  act 
of  private  satisfaction  to  the  creditor,  instead  of  a  public  punish- 
ment. As  an  act  of  satisfaction  or  revenge,  it  is  always  wrong 
in  the  motive,  and  often  intemperate  and  undistinguishing  in  the 
exercise.  Consider  it  as  a  public  punishment  ;  founded  upon 
the  same  reason,  and  subject  to  the  same  rules,  as  other  punish- 
ments ;  and  the  justice  of  it,  together  with  the  degree  to  which 
it  should  be  extended,  and  the  objects  upon  whom  it  may  be  in- 
flicted, will  be  apparent.  There  are  frauds  relating  to  insolven- 
cy, against  which  it  is  as  necessary  to  provide  punishment,  as 
for  any  public  crimes  whatever  :  as  where  a  man  gets  your  mo- 
ney into  his  possession,  and  forthwith  runs  away  with  it  ;  or, 
what  \3  little  better,  squanders  it  in  vicious  expenses  ;  or  stakes 
it  at  the  gaming-table  ;  in  the  Alley  ;  or  upon  wild  adventures 
in  trade  ;  or  is  conscious,  at  the  time  he  borrows  it,  that  he  can 
never  repay  it  ;  or  wilfully  puts  it  out  of  his  power,  by  profuse 
living  ;  or  conceals  his  effects,  or  transfers  them  by  collusion  to 
another  :  not  to  mention  the  obstinacy  of  some  debtors,  who  had 
rather  rot  in  a  gaol,  than  deliver  up  their  estates  ;  for,  to  say  the 
truth,  the  first  absurdity  is  in  the  law  itself,  which  leaves  it  in  a 
debtor's  power  to  withhold  any  part  of  his  property  from  the 
claim  of  his  creditors.  The  only  qaestion  is,  whether  the  pun- 
ishment be  properly  placed  in  the  hands  of  an  exasperated  cred- 
itor :  for  which  it  may  be  said,  that  these  iVauds  are  so  subtile 
and  versatile,  that  nothing  but  discretionary  power  can  over- 
take them  ;  and  that  no  discretion  is  likely  to  be  so  well  inform- 
ed, so  vigilant,  and  so  active,  as  that  of  the  creditor. 

It  must  be  remembered,  however,  that  the  confinement  of  a 
debtor  in  a  gaol  is  a  punishment ;  and  that  every  punishment 
supposes  a  crime.  To  pursue,  therefore,  with  the  extremity  of 
legal  rigour,  a  sufTerer,  whom  the  fraud  or  failure  of  others,  his 
own  want  of  capacity,  or  the  disappointments  and  miscarriage  to 
which  all  human  affairs  are  subject,  have  reduced  to  ruin,  mere- 


SERVICE.  ,115 

'\y  because  we  are  provoked  by  our  loss,  and  seek  to  relieve  the 
pain  we  feel  by  that  which  we  inflict,  is  repugnant  not  only  to 
humanity,  but  to  justice  ;  for  it  is  to  prevent  a  provision  of  law, 
designed  for  a  different  and  a  salutary  purpose,  to  the  gi-atifica- 
tion  of  private  spleen  and  resentment.  Any  alteration  in  these 
laws,  which  could  distinguish  the  degrees  of  guilt,  or  convert  the 
service  of  the  insolvent  debtor  to  some  public  profit,  might  be 
an  improvement ;  but  any  considerable  mitigation  of  their  rigour, 
under  colour  of  relieving  the  poor,  v/ould  increase  their  hard- 
ships. For  whatever  deprives  the  creditor  of  his  power  of  coer- 
cion, deprives  him  of  his  security  ;  and  as  this  must  add  greatly 
to  the  difficulty  of  obtaining  credit,  the  poor,  especially  the  low- 
er sort  of  tradesmen,  are  the  first  who  would  suffer  by  such  a 
regulation.  As  tradesmen  must  buy  before  they  sell,  you  would 
exclude  from  trade  two  thirds  of  those  who  now  .carry  it  on,  if 
none  were  enabled  to  enter  into  it  without  a  capital  sufficient  for 
prompt  payments.  An  advocate,  therefore,  for  the  interests  of 
this  important  class  of  the  community,  will  deem  it  more  eligi- 
ble, that  one  out  oj  a  thousand  should  be  sent  to  gaol  by  hig 
creditor,  than  that  the  nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine  should  be 
straitened  and  embarrassed,  and  many  of  them  lie  idle,  by  the 
avant  of  credit. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

CONTRACTS  OF  LABOUR. 

SERVICE. 

SERVICE  in  this  country  is,  as  it  ought  to  be,  voluntary, 
and  by  contract  ;  and  the  master's  authority  extends  no  further 
than  the  terms  or  equitable  construction  of  the  contract  will  jus- 
4ify. 


JJ6  SERVICE. 

The  treatment  of  servants,  as  to  diet,  discipline,  and  accom- 
modation, the  kind  and  quantity  of  work  to  be  required  of  thenri; 
the  intermission,  liberty,  and  indulgence  to  be  allowed  them, 
must  be  determined  in  a  great  measure  by  custom  ;  for  where 
the  contract  involves  so  many  particulars,  the  contracting  par- 
ties express  a  few  perhaps  of  the  principal,  and,  by  mutual  un- 
derstanding, refer  the  rest  to  the  known  custom  of  the  country  in 
]ike  cases. 

A  servant  is  not  bound  to  obey  the  unlawful  commands  of  his 
master  ;  to  minister,  for  instance,  to  his  Unlawful  pleasures  ;  or 
to  assist  him  in  unlawful  practices  in  his  profession  ;  as  in  smug- 
gling or  adulterating  the  articles  which  he  deals  in.  For  the 
servant  is  bound  by  nothing  but  his  own  promise  ;  and  the  obli- 
gation of  a  promise  extends  not  to  things  unlawful. 

For  the  same  reason,  the  master's  authority  is  no  justification 
of  the  servant  in  doing  wrong  ;  for  the  servant's  own  promise, 
upon  which  that  authority  is  founded,  would  be  none. 

Clerks  and  apprentices  ought  to  be  employed  entirely  in  the 
profession  or  trade  which  they  are  intended  to  learn.  Instruc- 
tion is  their  wages  ;  and  to  deprive  them  of  the  opportunities  of 
instruction,  by  taking  up  their  time  with  occupations  foreign  to 
their  business,  is  to  defraud  them  of  their  wages. 

The  master  is  responsible  for  what  a  servant  does  in  the  or- 
dinary course  of  his  employment ;  for  it  is  done  under  a  general 
authority  committed  to  him,  which  is  in  justice  equivalent  to  a 
specific  direction.  Thus,  if  I  pay  money  to  a  banker's  clerk, 
the  banker  is  accountable  ;  but  not  if  I  had  paid  it  to  his  butler 
or  his  footman,  whose  business  is  not  to  receive  money.  Upon 
the  same  principle,  if  I  once  send  a  servant  to  take  up  goods  up- 
on credit  J  whatever  goods  he  afterwards  takes  up  at  the  same 
shop,  so  long  as  he  continues  in  my  service,  are  justly  chargea- 
ble to  my  account. 

The  law  of  this  country  goes  great  lengths  in  intending  a  kind 
of  concurrence  in  the  master,  so  as  io  charge  him  with  the  con- 
sequences of  his  servant's  conduct.     If  an  inn-keeper's  servant 


SERVICE.  117 

rob  his  guests,  the  inn-keeper  must  make  restitution  ;  if  a  farri- 
er's servant  lame  your  horse,  the  farrier  must  answer  for  the 
damage  :  and  still  further,  if  your  coachman  or  carter  drive  over 
a  passenger  in  the  road,  the  passenger  may  recover  from  you  a 
satisfaction  for  the  hurt  he  suffers.  But  these  determinations 
^tand,  I  think,  rather  upon  the  authority  of  the  lavy,  than  any 
principle  of  natural  justice. 

There  is  a  carelessness  and  facility  in  "  giving  characters,"  as 
it  is  called,  of  servants,  especially  when  given  in  writing,  or  ac- 
cording to  some  established  form,  which,  to  speak  plainly  of  it, 
is  a  cheat  upon  those  who  accept  them.  They  are  given  with 
so  little  reserve  and  veracity,  "  that  I  should  as  soon  depend," 
says  the  author  of  the  Rambler,  "  upon  an  acquittal  at  the  Old 
"  Bailey,  by  way  of  recommendation  of  a  servant's  honesty,  as 
"  upon  one  of  these  characters."  It  is  sometimes  carelessness  ; 
and  sometimes  also  to  get  rid  of  a  bad  servant  without  the  unea- 
siness of  a  dispute  ;  for  which  nothing  can  be  pleaded  but  the 
most  ungenerous  of  all  excuses,  thaj;  the  person  we  deceive  is  a 
stranger. 

There  is  a  conduct  the  reverse  of  this,  but  more  injurious,  be- 
cause the  injury  falls  where  there  is  no  remedy  ;  I  mean  the  ob- 
structing of  a  servant's  advancement,  because  you  are  unwilling 
to  spare  his  service.  To  stand  in  the  way  of  your  servant's  in- 
terest, is  a  poor  return  for  his  fidelity  ;  and  affords  slender  en- 
couragement for  good  behaviour  in  this  numerous  and  therefore 
important  part  of  the  community,  it  is  a  piece  of  injustice 
which,  if  practised  towards  an  equal,  the  law  of  honour  would 
lay  hold  of;  as  it  is,  it  is  neither  uncommon  nor  disreputable. 

A  master  of  a  family  is  culpable,  if  he  permit  any  vices  among 
his  domestics,  which  he  might  restrain  by  due  discipline,  and  a 
proper  interference.  This  results  from  the  general  obligation  to 
prevent  misery  when  in  our  power  ;  and  the  assurance  which 
we  have,  that  vice  and  misery  at  the  long  run  go  together.  Care 
to  maintain  in  his  family  a  sense  of  virtue  and  religion,  received 
the  Divine  approbation  in  the  person  of  Abraham,  Gen.  xviii. 
19, — "  I  know  him,  that  he  will  command  his  children,  and  his 


il8  SERVICE. 

"  household  after  him  ;  and  they  shall  keep  the  ways  of  the 
**  Lord,  to  do  justice  and  judgment."  And  indeed  no  authority 
seems  so  well  adapted  to  this  purpose,  as  that  of  masters  of  fam- 
ilies ;  because  none  operates  upon  the  subjects  of  it  with  an  in- 
fluence so  immediate  and  constant. 

What  the  Christian  Scriptures  have  delivered  concerning  the 
relation  and  reciprocal  duties  of  masters  and  servants,  breathes 
a  spirit  of  liberality,  very  little  known  in  ages  when  servitude 
was  slavery  ;  and  which  flowed  from  a  habit  of  contemplating 
mankind  under  the  common  relation  in  which  they  stand  to  their 
Creator,  and  with  respect  to  their  interest  in  another  existence.* 
"  Servants,  be  obedient  to  them  that  are  your  masters  according 
"  to  the  flesh,  with  fear  and  trembling  ;  in  singleness  of  your 
"  heart,  as  unto  Christ ;  not  with  eye-service,  as  men-pleasers, 
"  but  as  the  servants  of  Christ,  doing  the  will  of  God  from  the 
"  heart  ;  with  good  will,  doing  service  as  to  the  Lord,  and  not  to 
"  men  :  knowing  that  whatsoever  good  thing  any  man  doeth,  the 
"  same  shall  he  receive  of  the  Lord,  Mhother  he  be  bond  or 
"  free.  And  ye  masters,  do  the  same  thing  unto  them,  forbear- 
"  ing  threatening  ;  knowing  that  your  Master  also  is  in  heaven ; 
"  neither  is  there  I'espect  of  persons  with  him."  The  idea  of 
referring  their  service  to  God,  of  considering  him  as  having  ap- 
pointed them  their  task,  that  they  were  doing  his  will,  and  were 
to  look  to  him  for  their  reward,  was  new  ;  and  affords  a  greater 
ffficurity  to  the  master  than  any  inferior  principle,  because  it 
tends  to  produce  a  steady  and  cordial  obedience,  in  the  place  of 
that  constrained  service,  which  can  never  be  trusted  out  of  sight, 
and  which  is  justly  enough  called  eye-service.  The  exhoflation 
k)  masters,  to  keep  in  view  their  own  subjectiou  and  accounta- 
bleness,  was  no  less  seasonable. 

Eph.  Ti.  5—9. 


r  COMMISSIONS.  119 

CHAPTER  XII. 

CONTRACTS  OF  LABOUR, 

COMMISSIONS. 

WHOEVER  undertakes  another  man's  business,  makes  it  his 
own,  that  is,  promises  to  employ  upon  it  the  same  care,  attention, 
and  diligence,  that  he  would  do  if  it  were  actually  his  own  ;  for 
he  knows  that  the  business  was  committed  to  him  with  that  ex- 
pectation. And  he  promises  no  more  than  this.  Therefore  an 
agent  is  not  obliged  to  wait,  inquire,  solicit,  ride  about  the  coun- 
try, toil,  or  study,  whilst  there  remains  a  possibility  of  benefit- 
ting his  employer.  If  he  exert  so  much  of  his  activity,  and  use 
such  caution,  as  the  value  of  the  business,  in  his  judgment,  de- 
serves ;  that  is,  as  he  would  ha\e  thought  sufficient  if  the  same 
interest  of  his  own  had  been  at  stake,  he  has  discharged  his  du- 
ty, although  it  should  afterwards  turn  out,  that  by  more  activity, 
and  longer  perseverance,  he  might  have  concluded  the  business 
with  greater  advantage. 

This  rule  defines  the  duty  of  factors,  stewards,  attornies,  and 
advocates. 

One  of  the  chief  difficulties  of  an  agent's  situation  is,  to  know 
how  far  he  may  depart  from  his  instructions,  when  he  sees  rea- 
son to  believe,  from  some  change  or  discovery  in  the  circum- 
stances of  his  commission,  that  his  employer,  if  he  were  present, 
would  alter  his  intention.  The  latitude  allowed  to  agents  in  this 
respect,  will  be  different,  according  as  the  commission  was  con- 
fidential or  ministerial  ;  and  according  as  the  general  rule  and 
nature  of  the  service  require  a  prompt  and  precise  obedience  to 
orders,  or  not.  An  attorney  sent  to  treat  for  an  estate,  if  he 
found  out  a  flaw  in  the  title,  would  desist  from  proposing  the 
price  he  was  directed  to  propose  ;  and  very  properly.     On  the 


120  COMMSSIONS. 

other  hand,  if  the  commander-in-chief  of  an  army  detatch  an  of- 
ficer under  hira  upon  a  particular  service,  which  service  turn* 
out  more  difficult,  or  less  expedient,  than  was  supposed,  inso- 
much that  the  officer  is  convinced  that  his  commander,  if  he  were 
acquainted  with  the  true  state  in  which  the  affair  is  found,  would 
recal  his  orders  ;  yet,  if  he  cannot  wait  for  fresh  directions  with- 
out prejudice  to  the  expedition  he  is  sent  upon,  he  must,  at  all 
hazards,  pursue  those  which  he  brought  out  with  him. 

What  is  trusted  to  an  agent,  may  be  lost  or  damaged  in  his 
hands  by  misfortune.  An  agent  who  acts  without  pay  is  clear- 
ly not  answerable  for  the  loss  ;  for  if  he  give  his  labour  for  no- 
thing, it  cannot  be  presumed  that  he  gave  also  security  for  the 
success  of  it.  If  the  agent  be  hired  to  the  business,  the  question 
will  depend  upon  the  apprehension  of  the  parties  at  the  time  of 
making  the  contract  :  which  apprehension  of  theirs  must  be  col- 
lected chiefly  from  custom,  by  which  probably  it  was  guided. 
Whether  a  public  carrier  ought  to  account  for  goods  sent  by 
him  ;  the  owner  or  master  of  a  ship  for  the  cargo  ;  the  post-of- 
fice for  letters,  or  bills  enclosed  in  letters,  where  the  less  is  not 
imputed  to  any  fault  or  neglect  of  theirs,  are  questions  of  this 
sort.  Any  expression,  which  by  implication  amounts  to  a  pro- 
mise, will  be  binding  upon  the  agent,  without  custom  ;  as  where 
the  proprietors  of  a  stage-coach  advertise  that  they  will  not  be 
accountable  for  money,  plate,  or  jewels,  this  makes  them  ac- 
countable for  every  thing  else  ;  or  where  the  price  is  too  much 
for  the  labour,  part  of  it  may  be  considered  as  a  premium  for 
insurance.  On  the  other  hand,  any  caution  on  the  part  of  the 
owner  to  guard  against  danger,  is  evidence  that  he  considers  the 
risk  to  be  his  ;  as  cutting  a  bank-bill  in  two,  to  send  by  the  post 
at  different  times. 

Universally,  unless  a  promise,  either  express  or  tacit,  can  be 
proved  against  the  agent,  the  loss  must  fall  upon  the  owner. 

The  agent  may  be  a  sufferer  in  his  own  person  or  proj>erty  by 
the  business  which  he  undertakes  ;  as  where  one  goes  a  journey 
for  another,  and  lames  his  horse  by  a  fall  upon  the  road,  qt  is 


PARTNERSHIP.  121 

hurt  himself,  can  the  agent  in  such  a  case  claim  a  compensation 
for  the  misfortune  ?  Unless  the  same  be  provided  for  by  ex- 
|)ress  stipulation,  the  agent  is  not  entitled  to  any  compensation 
from  his  employer  on  that  account  ;  for  where  the  danger  is  not 
foreseen,  there  can  be  no  reason  to  believe  that  the  employer  en- 
gaged to  indemnify  the  agent  against  it  :  much  less  where  it  is 
foreseen  ;  for  whoever  knowingly  undertakes  a  dangerous  em- 
ployment, in  common  construction,  takes  upon  himself  the  dan- 
ger and  the  consequences  ;  as  where  a  fireman  undertakes  for  a 
reward  to  rescue  a  box  of  writings  from  the  flames,  or  a  sailor  to 
bring  off  a  passenger  from  a  ship  in  a  storm. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

CONTRACTS  OF  LABOUR. 
PARTNERSHIP. 

I  KNOW  of  nothing  upon  the  subject  of  partnership  that  re- 
quires explanation,  but  how  the  profits  are  to  be  divided  where 
one  partner  contributes  money  and  the  other  labour,  which  is  a 
common  case. 

Rule.  From  the  stock  of  the  partnership  deduct  the  sum  ad- 
vanced, and  divide  the  remainder  between  the  monied  partner 
and  the  labouring  partner,  in  the  proportion  of  the  interest  of  the 
money  to  the  wages  of  the  labour,  allowing  such  a  rate  of  inter- 
est as  money  might  be  borrowed  for  upon  the  same  security,  and 
such  wages  as  a  journeyman  would  require  for  the  same  labour 
and  trust. 

Example.     A  advances  a  thousand  pounds,  but  knows  nothing 

of  the  business  ;  B  produces  no  money,  but  has  been  brought  up 

to  the  business,  and  undertakes  to  conduct  it.     At  the  end  of  the 

year  the  stock  and  the  effects  of  the  partnership  amount  to  twelve 

16 


i22  OFFICES. 

liundreil  pounds,  consequently  there  arc  two  liuntlred  pounds  fo- 
bs divided.  Now,  nobody  nould  lend  money  upon  the  event  ot 
the  business  succeeding,  which  is  A's  security,  under  six  per 
cent.  ;  therefore  A  must  be  avowed  sixty  pout>ds  for  the  interest 
of  his  money,  B,  before  he  engaged  in  the  partnership,  earned 
tliirty  pounds  a-year  in  the  same  employment  ;  bis  labour, 
therefore,  ought  to  be  valued  at  thirty  pounds  :  And  the  two 
hundred  pounds  must  be  divided  between  the  ])artners  in  the 
proportion  of  sixty  to  thirty  ;  that  is,  A  must  receive  one  hun- 
dred and  thirty-three  pounds  six  shillings  and  eightpence,  and 
B  sixty-six  pounds  thirteen  shillings  and  fourpence. 

If  there  be  nothin^g  gained,  A  loses  his  interest,  and  B  his  la- 
bour ;  which  is  right.  If  the  original  stock  be  diminished,  by 
this  rule  B  loses  only  his  labour,  as  before,  whereas  A  loses  his 
interest,  and  part  of  the  principal  ;  for  which  eventual  dif^ad- 
vantage  A  is  compensated,  by  having  the  interest  of  his  money 
computed  at  sis  per  cent,  in  the  division  of  the  profits,  when 
there  is  any. 

It  is  true,  that  the  division  of  the  profit  is  seldom  forgotten  in 
the  constitution  of  the  partnership,  and  is  therefore  commonly- 
settled  by  express  agreement  ;  but  these  agreements,  to  be  equi- 
table, should  pursue  the  principle  of  the  rule  here  laid  down. 

All  the  partners  are  bound  by  what  any  one  of  them  does  in 
the  course  of  the  Ijusiness  ;  for,  quoad  hoc,  each  partner  is  con- 
sidered as  an  authorized  agent  for  thf  rest. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

CONTRACTS  OF  LABOUR. 
OFFICES. 

IN  many  offices,  as  schools,  fellowships  of  colleges,  protessor- 
ships  of  the  universities,  and  the  like,  there  is  a  twolold  contract- 
one  with  the  founder,  the  other  with  the  electors. 


OFFICES.  1 2.) 

The  contract  with  the  founder  obliges  the  incumbent  of  the 
office  to  discharge  every  duty  ajipointed  by  the  charter,  statutes, 
deed  of  gift,  or  will  of  the  founder  ;  because  the  endowment  was 
given,  and  consequently  accepted  for  that  purpose,  and  upon 
these  conditions. 

The  contract  wilh  the  electors  extends  this  obligation  to  all 
duties  that  have  been  customarily  connected  with,  and  reckoned 
a  part  of  the  office,  though  not  prescribed  by  the  founder  ;  for 
the  electors  expect  from  the  person  they  choose  all  the  duties 
which  his  predecessors  have  discharged  ;  and  -as  the  person 
elected  cannot  be  ignorant  of  their  expectation,  if  he  mean  to  re- 
fuse this  condition  he  ought  to  apprize  them  of  his  cbjcctiom 

And  here  let  it  be  observed,  that  the  penriissionef  the  electors 
js,  in  cenicienee,  an  excuse  from  this  last  class  of  duties  only  ; 
becaii.se  this  class  results  from  a  >contract  te  which  the  electors 
and  the  person  elected  are  the  only  parties.  The  other  class  of 
duties  results  fiom  a  diiferent  contract. 

it  is  a  question  of  some  magnitude  and  difficulty,  what  offices 
vnay  be  conscientiously  supplied  by  a  deputy. 

We  will  state  the  several  objections  to  the  substitution  of  a 
deputy  ;  and  then  it  will  be  understood,  that  a  deputy  may  be 
allowed  in  all  cases  to  which  these  objections  do  not  apply. 

An  office  may  not  be  discharged  by  deputy, 

1.  Where  a  particular  confidence  is  reposed  iu  the  person  ap- 
pointed to  it  ;  as  the  office  of  a  steward,  guardian,  judge,  com- 
mander-in-chief by  land  or  sea. 

2.  Where  the  custom  hinders  ;  as  in  the  case  of  school-mas- 
ters, tutors,  and  of  commissions  in  the  army  and  navy.' 

3.  Where  the  duty  cannot,  from  its  nature,  be  so  well  per- 
formed by  a  deputy  ;  as  tlie  deputy -governor  of  a  province  maj 
not  possess  the  legal  authority,  or  the  actual  iniluence  of  hii 
principal. 

4.  Whep.  some  inconvenioncy  would  result  to  the  service  i« 
general  from  the  permission  of  deputies  in  such  cases  ;  for  ex- 
ample, it  is  probable  that  military  merit  v.ould  be  much  di^- 


aS4  OFFICES. 

couraged,   if  the  duties  belonging  to  commissions   in  the  army 
were  generally  allowed  to  be  executed  by  substitutes. 

The  non-residence  of  the  parochial  clergy,  who  supply  the 
duty  of  their  benefices  by  curates,  is  worthy  of  a  more  distinct 
consideration.  And  in  order  to  draw  liie  queption  upon  this  case 
to  a  point,  we  will  suppose  the  officiating  curate  to  discharge 
every  dutj-  whicli  his  principal,  were  he  present,  would  be  bound 
to  discharge,  and  in  a  manner  equally  beneficial  to  the  parish  : 
under  which  circumstances,  the  only  objection  to  the  absence  of 
the  principal,  at  least  the  only  one  of  the  foregoing  objections,  is 
the  last. 

And,  in  my  judgment,  the  force  of  this  objection  will  be  much 
diminished,  if  the  absent  rector  or  vicar  be,  in  the  meantime, 
engaged  in  any  function  or  employment  of  equal  importance  to 
the  general  interest  of  religion,  or  of  greater.  For  the  whole 
revenue  of  the  national  church  may  properly  enough  be  consid- 
ered as  a  common  fund  for  the  support  of  the  national  religion  ; 
and  if  a  clergyman  be  serving  the  cause  of  Christianity  and 
Protestantism,  it  can  make  little  difference,  out  of  what  particu- 
lar portion  of  this  fund,  thai  is,  by  the  tithes  and  glebe  of  what 
particular  parish,  his  service  be  requited  ;  any  more  than  it  can 
prejudice  the  king's  service,  that  an  officer  who  has  signalized  hie 
merit  in  America,  should  be  rewarded  with  the  government  of  a 
fort  or  castle  in  Ireland,  which  he  never  saw  ;  but  for  the  cus- 
tody of  which  proper  provision  is  made  and  care  taken. 

Upon  the  principle  tlius  explained,  this  indulgence  is  due  to 
none  more  than  to  those  who  are  occupied  in  cultivating  or  com- 
municating religious  knowledge,  or  the  sciences  subsidiary  to 
religion. 

This  way  of  considering  the  revenues  of  the  church  as  a  com- 
mon fund  for  the  same  purpose,  is  the  more  equitable,  as  the 
value  of  particular  preferments  bears  no  proportion  to  the  par- 
ticular charge  or  labour. 

But  when  a  man  draws  upon  this  fund,  whose  studies  and  em- 
ployments bear  no  relation  to  the  object  of  it ;    and  who  is  no 


LIES.  125 

further  a  minister  of  the  Christian  religion,  than  as  a  cockade 
makes  a  soldier,  it  seems  a  misapplication  little  better  than 
robbery. 

And  to  those  who  have  the  management  of  such  matters  I  sub- 
mit this  question,  whether  the  impoverishing  of  the  fund,  by 
converting  the  best  share  of  it  into  annuities  for  the  gay  and  il- 
literate youth  of  great  families,  threatens  not  to  starve  and  stifle 
the  little  clerical  merit  that  is  left  amongst  us  ? 

All  legal  dispensations  from  residence  proceed  upon  the  sup- 
position, that  the  absentee  is  detained  from  his  living  by  some 
engagement  of  equal  or  of  greater  public  importance.  There- 
fore, if  in  a  case  where  no  such  reason  can  with  truth  be  plead- 
ed, it  be  said  that  this  question  regards  a  right  of  property,  and 
that  ail  right  of  property  awaits  the  disposition  of  law  ;  that, 
therefore,  if  the  law,  which  gives  a  man  the  emoluments  of  a 
living,  excuse  him  from  residing  upon  it,  he  is  excused  in  con- 
^  science  :  we  answer,  that  the  law  does  not  excuse  him  by  inten- 
tion^ and  that  all  other  excuses  are  fraudulent. 


CHAPTER  J^V. 

LIES. 

A  LIE  is  a  breach  of  promise  :    for  whoever  seriously  ad 
dresses  his  discourse  to  another  tacitly  promises  to  speak  the 
truth  because  he  knows  that  the  truth  is  expected. 

Or  the  obligation  of  veracity  may  be  made  out  from  the  direct 
ill  consequences  of  lying  to  social  happiness.  Which  consequen- 
ces consist,  either  in  some  specific  injury  to  particular  indi- 
viduals, or  in  the  destruction  of  that  confidence,  which  is  essen- 
tial to  the  intercourse  of  human  life  ;  for  which  latter  reason,  a  lie 
may  be  pernicious  in  its  general  tendency,  and  therefore  crim- 
inal, though  it  produce  no  particular  or  visible  mischief  to  any- 
one. 


126  LIE«. 

There  arc  falsehoods  which  arc  not  lies  ;  that  is,  uliidi  are 
not  crimitjal  ;  as, 

1.  Where  no  one  is  deceived  ;  which  is  the  case  in  j)arablcs, 
fables,  novels,  jests,  tales  to  create  mirth,  ludicrous  embellish- 
ments of  a  story,  where  the  declared  design  of  the  speaker  is  not 
to  inform,  but  to  divert  ;  compliments  in  the  subscription  of  a 
letter,  a  servant's  (le7njing  his  master,  a  prisoner's  pleading  not 
guilty,  an  advocate  asserting  the  justice,  or  his  belief  of  the  ju-j- 
tice  of  his  client's  cause.  In  such  instances,  no  confidence  is  de- 
stroyed, because  none  was  reposed  ;  no  promise  to  speak  the 
truth  is  violated,  because  none  was  given,  or  understood  to  be 
given. 

2.  Where  the  person  you  speak  to  has  no  right  to  know  the 
truth,  or,  more  properly,  where  little  or  no  inconveniency  results 
from  the  want  of  confidence  in  such  cases  ;  as,  where  you  tell  a 
falsehood  to  a  madman,  for  his  own  advantage  ;  to  a  robber,  to 
conceal  your  property  ;  to  an  assassin,  to  defeat  or  divert  him 
from  his  purpose.  The  particular  consequence  is  by  the  suppo- 
sition beneficial  ;  and  as  to  the  general  consequence,  the  worst 
that  can  happen  is,  that  the  madman,  the  robber,  the  assassin, 
will  not  trust  you  agnin  ;  which  (beside  that  the  first  is  incapa- 
ble of  deducing  regular  conchibions  froiu  having  been  once  de- 
ceived, and  the  two  last  not  likely  to  come  a  second  time  in 
your  way,)  is  sufficiently  compensated  by  the  inmiediate  bene- 
fit which  you  propose  by  the  falsehood. 

It  is  upon  this  principle,  that,  by  the  laws  of  war,  it  is  allowed 
to  decicvc  an  enemy  by  feints,  false  colours,*  spies,  false  intel- 
ligence, and  the  like  ;    but  by  no  means  in  treaties,  truces,  sig- 

*  There  have  been  two  or  three  instances  of  late,  of  Eng;lish  shijis  de- 
coying an  enemy  iuto  their  power,  by  counterfeiting  s^ignals  of  distress  ; 
an  artifice  which  qiight  to  be  reprobated  by  the  common  indignation  of 
mankind:  For,  a  few  examples  of  captures  effected  by  this  stratagem, 
would  put  an  end  to  that  promptitude  in  affording  assistance  to  ships  in 
distress  ;  which  is  the  best  virtue  in  a  seafaring  character,  and  by  which 
the  perils  of  navigation  are  diminished  to  all. 


LIES.  12  5' 

nals  of  capitulation  or  surrender  :  and  the  ditTerence  is,  that  the 
former  suppose  hostilities  to  continue,  the  latter  are  calculated 
to  terminate  or  suspend  them.  In  the  conduct  of  war,  and  whilst 
the  war  continues,  there  is  no  use,  or  rathor  no  place,  for  confi- 
dence betwixt  the  contending  parties  :  but  in  whatever  relates 
to  the  termination  of  war,  the  most  religious  fidelity  is  expected, 
because  without  it  wars  could  not  cease,  nor  the  victors  be  se- 
cure, but  by  the  entire  destruction  of  the  vanquished. 

Many  people  indulge,  in  serious  discourse,  a  habit  of  fiction 
and  exaggeration,  in  the  accounts  they  give  of  themselves,  of 
their  acquaintance,  or  of  the  extraordinary  things  which  they  have 
seen  or  heard  :  and  so  long  as  tlie  facts  they  relate  are  indiffer- 
ent, and  their  narratives,  tliough  false,  are  inoffensive,  it  may 
seem  a  superstitious  regard  to  trutli,  to  censure  them  merely  for 
truth's  sake. 

In  the  first  place,  it  is  almost  inipossible  to  pronounce  before- 
hand, with  certainty,  concerning  any  lie,  that  it  is  inoffensive. 
VoJat  irrevocabile  ;  and  collects  ofttimes  accretions  in  its  flight, 
which  entirely  change  its  nature.  It  may  owe  possibly  its 
mischief  to  the  ofiiciousness  or  misrepresentation  of  those  who 
circulate  it  ;  but  the  mischief  is,  nevertheless,  in  some  degree, 
chargeable  upon  the  original  editor. 

In  the  next  place,  this  liberly  in  conversation  defeats  its  own 
end.  Much  of  the  pleasure,  and  all  the  benefit  of  conversation, 
depends  upon  our  opinion  of  the  speaker's  veracity  ;  for  which 
this  rule  leaves  no  foundation.  The  faith  indeed  of  a  hearer 
must  be  extremely  perplexed,  who  considers  the  speaker,  or  bo^ 
lieves  that  the  speaker  considers  himself,  as  under  no  obligation 
to  adhere  to  truth,  but  according  to  the  particular  importance  of 
what  he  relates. 

But  besides  and  above  both  these  reasons,  tEliite  lies  always 
introduce  others  of  a  darker  conplexion.  I  have  seldom  known 
any  one  who  deserted  truth  in  trifles,  that  could  be  trusted  in 
matters  of  importance.  Nice  distinctions  are  out  of  the  question, 
upon  occasions  which,  like  those  of  speech,  return  every  hour. 


128  LIES. 

The  habit  therefore,  when  once  formed,  is  easily  extended  to 
serve  the  designs  of  malice  or  interest  ; — like  all  habits,  it  spreads 
indeed  of  itself. 

Piotis  frauds,  as  they  are  improperly  enough  called,  pretend- 
ed inspirations,  forj^ing  books,  counterfeit  miracles,  are  imposi- 
tions of  a  more  serious  nature,  it  is  possiljle  that  they  may 
sometimes,  though  seldom,  have  been  set  up  and  encouraged, 
with  a  design  to  do  good  :  but  the  good  they  aim  at,  requires 
that  the  belief  of  them  should  be  perpetual,  which  is  hardly 
possible  ;  and  the  detection  of  the  fraud  is  sure  to  disparage  the 
credit  of  all  pretensions  of  the  same  nature.  Christianity  has 
suflFered  more  injury  from  this  cause,  than  from  all  other  cau- 
ses put  together. 

As  there  may  be  falsehoods  which  are  not  lies,  so  there  may 
be  lies,  without  literal  or  direct  falsehood.  An  opening  is  al- 
ways left  for  this  species  of  prevarication,  when  the  literal  and 
grammatical  signitication  of  a  sentence  is  different  from  the  pop- 
ular and  customary  meaning.  It  is  the  wilful  deceit  that  makes 
the  lie  ;  and  we  wilfully  decieve,  when  our  expressions  are  not 
true  in  the  sense  in  which  we  believe  the  hearer  apprehends 
them.  Besides,  it  is  absurd  to  contend  for  any  sense  of  words, 
in  opposition  to  usage  ;  for,  all  senses  of  all  words  are  founded 
upon  usage,  and  upon  nothing  else. 

Or,  a  man  may  act  a  lie,  as  by  pointing  his  finger  in  a  wrong- 
direction,  when  a  traveller  incjuires  of  him  his  road  ;  or  when  a 
tradesman  shuts  up  his  windows,  to  induce  his  creditors  to  believe 
that  he  is  abroad  ;  for,  to  all  moral  purposes,  and  therefore  as  to 
veracity,  speech  and  action  are  the  same  ;  speech  being  only  a 
mode  of  action. 

Or,  lastly,  there  may  be  lies  of  omission.  A  writer  of  English 
history,  who,  in  his  account  of  the  reign  of  Charles  the  First, 
should  wilfully  suppress  any  evidence  of  that  prince's  despotic 
measures  and  designs,  might  be  said  to  lie  ;  for,  by  entitling  his 
book  a  History  of  Eiighmd,  he  engages  to  relate  the  whole  truth 
of  the  history,  or  at  least  all  he  knows  of  it. 


^^Ws!^ 


OATHS,  129 


CHAPTER  XVI, 

OATHS. 

I.  Forms  of  Oaths, 

II.  Signification. 

III.  Lavafulness . 

IV.  Obligationi 

V.  What  oaths  do  not  hind. 

VI.  In  what  sense  oaths  are  to  be  interpreted. 

I.  THE  forms  of  oaths,  like  other  religious  cernmonies,  have 
been  ahvays  various  ;  but  consisting,  for  the  most  part,  of  some 
bodily  action,*  and  of  a  prescribed  form  of  words.  Amongst  the 
Jews,  the  juror  held  up  his  right  hand  towards  heaven,  which 
explains  a  passage  in  the  144th  Psalm  ;  "  Whose  mouth  speak- 
"  eth  vanity,  and  their  right  hand  is  a  right  hand  of  falsehood.'* 
The  same  form  is  retained  in  Scotland  still.  An  oath  of  fidelity 
was  taken,  by  the  servant's  putting  his  hand  under  the  thigh  of 
his  lord,  as  Eliezer  did  to  Abraham,  Gen.  xxiv.  2.  ;  from  whence, 
with  no  great  variation,  is  derived  perhaps  the  form  of  doing 
homage  at  this  day,  by  putting  the  hands  between  the  knees, 
and  within  the  hands  of  the  liege. 

Amongst  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  the  form  varied  with  the 
subject  and  occasion  of  the  oath.  In  private  contracts,  the  par- 
ties took  hold  of  each  other's  hand,  whilst  they  swore  to  the  per- 
formance ;  or  they  touched  the  altar  of  the  god,  by  whose  divin- 
ity they  swore.     Upon  more  solemn  occasions,  it  was  the  custom 

*  It  is  commonly  thought  that  oaths  arc  denominated  corporeal  oaths 
ftom  the  bodily  action  which  accompanies  them,  of  laying  the  right  hand 
upon  a  book  containing'  the  four  Gospels.  This  opinion,  however,  ap- 
pears to  be  a  mistake  ;  for  the  term  is  borrowed  from  the  ancient  usage  of 
touching,  upon  these  occasion^,  the  corporale,  or  cloth  which  covered  the 
consecrated  elements. 
17 


iSO  O^TUS. 

to  slay  a  victim ;  and  the  beast  being  struck  down,  with  certain 
ceremonies  and  invocations,  gave  birth  to  the  expressions  rtf^nn 
e^nav,  ferire  pactum  ;  and  to  our  English  phrase,  translated  from 
these,  of  "  striking  a  bargain." 

The  forms  of  oath  in  Christian  countries  are  also  very  differ- 
ent ;  but  in  none,  I  believe,  worse  contrived,  either  to  convey 
the  meaning,  or  impress  the  obligation  of  an  oath,  tlian  in  our 
own.  The  juror  with  us,  after  repeating  the  promise  or  affirma- 
tion which  the  oath  is  intended  to  confirm,  adds,  "  So  help  me 
"  God  :""  or  more  frequently  the  substance  of  the  oath  is  repeat- 
ed to  the  juror  by  the  officer  or  magistrate  who  a^iministers  it, 
adding  in  the  conclusion,  "  So  help  you  God."  The  energy  of 
the  sentence  resides  in  the  particle  $o  ;  so,  that  is,  hac  lege,  upon 
condition  of  my  speaking  the  truth,  or  performing  this  promise, 
may  God  help  me,  and  not  otherwise.  The  juror,  whilst  he 
hears  or  repeats  the  words  of  the  oath,  liohls  his  right  hand 
upon  a  Bible,  or  other  book  containing  the  four  Gospels.  The 
conclusion  of  the  oath  sometimes  runs,  "  ita  me  Deus  adjuvet, 
"  et  haec  sancta  evangelia,"  or,  "  so  help  me  God,  and  the  con- 
■'■  tents  of  th's  book  ;"  which  last  clause  forms  a  connexion  be- 
tween the  words  and  action  of  the  juror,  which  before  was  want- 
ing. The  juror  then  kisses  the  book  :  the  kiss,  however,  seems 
rather  an  act  of  reverence  to  the  contents  of  the  book  (as,  in 
the  popish  ritual,  the  priest  kisses  the  Gospel  bet'ore  he  reads 
it,)  than  any  part  of  the  oath. 

This  obscure  and  elliptical  form,  together  with  the  levity  and 
frequency  with  -which  it  is  administered,  has  brought  about  a 
general  inadvertency  to  the  obligation  of  oaths  ;  which,  both  in 
a  religious  and  political  view,  is  much  to  be  lamented  :  and  it 
merits  public  consideration,  whetlier  the  requiring  of  oaths  on  so 
many  frivolous  occasions,  especially  in  the  Customs,  and  in  the 
qualification  for  petty  offices,  has  any  oilier  effect,  than  to  make 
them  cheap  in  the  minds  of  the  people.  A  pound  of  tea  cannot 
travel  regularly  from  the  ship  to  the  consumer,  without  costing 
Haifa  dozen  oaths  at  least :    and  the  same  security  for  the  due 


OATHS.  131 

discharge  of  their  office,  namely,  that  of  an  oath,  is  required 
from  a  churchwarden  and  an  archbishop,  from  a  potty  constable 
and  the  chief  justice  of  England.  Let  the  law  continue  its  own 
sanctions,  if  they  be  thought  requisite  ;  but  let  it  spare  the  so- 
lemnity of  an  oath.  And  where  it  is  necessary,  from  the  want 
of  something  better  to  depend  upon,  to  accept  men's  own  word 
or  own  account,  let  it  annex  to  prevarfcation  penalties  propor- 
tioned to  the  public  consequence  of  the  offence. 

II.  But  whatever  be  the  form  of  an  oath,  the  signification  is 
the  same.  It  is  "the  calling  upon  God  to  witness,  i.  e.  totake 
"'  notice  of  what  we  say,"  and  "  invoking  his  vengeance,  or  re- 
"  nouncing  his  favour,  if  what  we  say  be  false,  or  what  we  pro- 
"  mise  be  not  performed." 

III.  Q,uakere  and  Moravians  refuse  to  swear  upon  any  occa- 
■fzion  ;  founding  their  scruples  concerning  the  lawfulness  of  oaths 
upon  our  Saviour's  prohibition,  Matt.  v.  34.  "  I  say  unto  you,, 
"  Swear  not  at  all." 

The  answer  which  we  give  to  this  objection  cannot  be  under- 
-stood,  without  first  stating  the  whole  passage  :  "  Ye  have  heard 
"  that  it  hath  bten  said  by  them  of  old  time,  Thou  shalt  not  for- 
eswear thyself,  but  shall  perform  unto  the  Lord,  thine  oaths. 
"  But  I  say  unto  you,  Swear  not  at  all  ;  neither  by  heaven,  for 
"  it  is  God's  throne  ;  nor  by  the  earth,  for  it  is  his  footstool  ; 
"  neither  by  Jerusalem,  for  it  is  the  city  of  the  great  King, 
"  Neither  shalt  thou  swear  by  thy  head,  because  thou  canst  not 
'"make  one  hair  white  or  black.  But  let  your  communication 
-"  be,  Yea,  yea  ;  Nay,  nay  :  for  whatsoever  is'niore  than  these, 
""  cometh  of  evil." 

To  reconcile  with  this  passage  of  Scripture  the  practice  oi 
swearing,  or  of  taking  oaths,  when  required  by  law,  the  following 
•observations  must  be  attended  to. 

1.  It  does  not  appear,  that  swearing  "  by  heaven,"  "  by  the 
"  earth,"  "  by  Jerusalem,"  or  "  by  their  own  head,"  was  a  form 
of  swearing  ever  made  use  of  amongst  the  Jews  in  judicial  oaths-; 
■and,  consequently,  it  is  not  probable  that  they  were  JiKliciaii 


Vd'i  OATHS. 

oaths  which  Christ  had  in  his  mind  when  he  mentioned  those  irt- 
stances. 

2,  As  to  the  seeming  universality  of  the  prohibition,  "  Swear 
"  not  at  all,"  the  emphatic  clause  "■  not  at  all"  is  ti>  be  read  in 
connexion  with  what  follows  ;  "  not  at  all,"  i.  e.  neither  "  by 
"  the  heaven,"  nor  "  by  the  earth,"  nor  "  by  Jerusalem,"  nor 
*'  by  ihy  head  :"  "  not  at  all,''''  docs  not  mean  upon  no  occasion, 
but  by  none  of  these  forms.  Our  Saviour's  argument  seems  to 
suppose,  that  the  people,  to  whom  he  spake,  made  a  distinction 
between  swearing  directly  by  "  the  name  of  God,"  and  swearing 
by  those  inferior  objects  of  veneration,  "  the  heavens,"  "  ti»e 
"  earth,"  "  Jerusalem,"  or  "  their  own  head."  In  opposition 
to  which  distinction,  he  tells  them,  that  on  account  of  the  rela- 
tion which  these  things  bore  to  the  Supreme  Being,  to  swear  by 
any  of  them,  was  in  effect  and  substance  to  swear  by  him  ;  "  by 
"  heaven,  for  it  is  hjs  throne  ;  by  the  earth,  for  it  is  his  footstool  ; 
"  by  Jerusalem,  for  it  is  the  city  of  the  great  King  ;  by  thy 
"  head,  for  it  is  his  workmanship,  not  thine, — thou  canst  not 
"  make  one  hair  white  or  black  ;"  for  which  reason  he  says, 
"  Swear  not  at  all  ;^^  that  is,  neither  directly  by  God,  nor  indi- 
rectly by  any  thing  related  to  him.  This  interpretation  is  great- 
ly confirmed  by  a  passage  in  the  twenty-third  chapter  of  the 
same  Gospel,  where  a  similar  distinction,  made  by  the  Scribes 
and  Pharisees,  is  replied  to  in  the  same  manner. 

3.  Our  Saviour  himself  being  "  adjured  by  the  living  God," 
to  declare  whether  he  was  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  God,  or  not, 
condescended  to  answer  the  high-priest,  without  making  any  ob- 
jection to  the  oath  (for  such  it  was)  upon  which  he  examined 
him. — "  God  is  my  witness,"  says  St.  Paul  to  the  Romans,  "  that 
"  without  ceasing  I  make  mention  of  you  in  my  prayers  :"  and 
to  the  Corinthians  still  more  strongly,  "  1  call  God  for  a  record 
•'  upon  my  soul,  that,  to  spare  you,  I  came  not  as  yet  to  Co- 
*'  rinth."  Both  these  expressions  contain  the  nature  of  oaths. 
The  epistle  to  the  Hebrews  speaks  of  the  custom  of  swedring  ju- 
dicially, without  any  mark  of  censure  or  disapprobation  :  "  Mc{» 


OATHS.         ,  133 

*■'  verily  swear  by  the  greater  ;  and  '"  an  oath,  lor  confirmation,  is 
"  to  them  an  end  of  all  strife." 

Upon  the  strength  of  these  reasons,  we  explain  our  Saviour's 
words  to  relate,  not  to  judicial  oaths,  but  to  the  practice  of  vain, 
wanton,  and  unauthorized  swearing,  in  common  discourse.  St. 
James's  words,  chapter  v.  12.  are  not  so  strong  as  our  Saviour's, 
and  therefore  admit  the  same  explanation  with  more  ease. 

IV.  Oaths  are  nugatory,  that  is,  carry  with  them  no  proper 
force  or  obligation,  unless  we  believe  that  God  will  punish  false 
swearing  with  more  severity  than  a  simple  lie,  or  breach  of  pro- 
mise ;  for  which  belief  there  are  the  following  reasons  : — 

1.  Perjury  is  a  sin  of  greater  deliberation.  The  juror  has,  I 
believe,  in  fact,  the  thought?  of  God  and  of  religion  upon  his 
mind  at  the  time  ;  at  least,  there  are  very  few  who  can  shake 
^hem  otF  entirely.  He  offends,  therefore,  if  he  do  otTend,  with  a 
high  hand  ;  in  the  face,  that  is,  and  in  defiance  of  the  sanc- 
tions of  religion.  His  offence  implies  a  disbelief  or  contempt  of 
God's  knowledge,  power,  and  justice  ;  which  cannot  be  said  of 
a  lie  where  there  is  nothing  to  carry  the  mind  to  any  reflection 
upon  the  Deity,  or  the  divine  attributes  at  all. 

2.  Perjury  violates  a  superior  confidence.  Mankind  must 
trust  to  one  another  ;  and  they  have  nothing  better  to  trust  to 
than  one  another's  oath.  Hence  legal  adjudications,  which  gov- 
fsrn  and  affect  every  right  and  interest  on  this  side  the  grave,  of 
necessity  proceed  and  depend  upon  oaths.  Perjury,  therefore, 
jn  its  general  consequence,  strikes  at  the  security  of  reputation, 
property,  and  even  of  life  itselt.  A  lie  cannot  do  the  same  mis- 
chief, because  the  same  credit  is  not  given  to  it.* 

3.  God  directed  the  Israelites  to  swear  by  his  name  \]  aiid 
was  pleased,  "  in  order  to  show  the  immutability  of  his  owo 
pounsel,"!  to  confirm  his  covenant  with  that  people  by  an  oath  ; 

*  Except,  indeed,  where  a  Quaker's  or  Moraviau's  affirmation  is  ac- 
cepteJ  ia  the  place  of  an  oath  ;  in  which  case,  u  lie  partakes,  so  far  as 
this  reason  extends,  of  the  nature  auJ  guilt  of  perjury. 

t  Deut.  vi.  If],     X.  20.  t  Heb.  vi.  17, 


134  OATH  IN  EVIDENCE. 

neither  of  which  it  is  probable  he  would  have  done,  had  he  not 
intended  to  represent  oaths  as  having  sonne  meaning  and  ofTect 
beyond  the  obligation  of  a  bare  promise  ;  which  effect  must  l)e 
owing  to  the  severer  punishment  with  which  he  will  vindicate 
the  authority  of  oaths. 

V.  Promissory  oaths  are  not  binding,  where  the  promise  itself 
would  not  be  so  :  for  the  several  cases  of  which,  see  the  Chap- 
ter of  Promises. 

VI.  As  oaths  are  designed  for  the  security  of  the  imposer,  it 
is  manifest  they  must  be  performed  and  interpreted  in  the  sense 
in  which  the  imposer  intends  them  ;  otherwise  they  afford  no 
security  to  liim.  And  this  is  the  meaning  and  reason  of  the  rule 
"  jurare  in  animum  imponentis  ;"  wi)ich  rule  the  reader  is  de- 
sired to  carry  along  with  him,  whilst  we  proceed  to  consider  cer- 
tain particular  oaths,  which  are  either  of  greater  importance,  or 
more  likely  to  fall  in  our  way,  than  others. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

OATH  IN  EVIDENCE. 

THE  witness  swears  "  to  speak  the  truth,  the  whole  truth, 
"  and  nothing  but  the  truth,  touching  the  matter  in  question." 

Upon  which  it  may  be  observed,  that  the  designed  conceal- 
ment of  any  truth,  which  relates  to  the  matter  in  agitation,  is  as 
much  a  violation  of  the  oath,  as  to  testify  a  positive  falsehood  ; 
and  this  whether  the  witness  be  interrogated  to  that  particular 
point  or  not.  For  when  the  person  to  be  examined,  is  sworn  up- 
on a  voir  dire,  that  is,  in  order  to  inquire,  whether  he  ought  to 
be  admitted  to  give  evidence  in  the  cause  at  all,  the  form  runs 
thus  :  "  You  shall  true  answer  make  to  all  such  questions  as 
"  shall  be  asked  you  :"  But  when  he  comes  to  be  sworn  in  chief, 
he  swear.?  "  to  speak  the  whole  truth,"  without  restraining  it,  as 


OATH  IN  EVIDENCE.  133 

before,  to  the  questions  that  shall  be  asked  :  which  difference 
shows,  that  tlie  law  intends,  in  this  latter  case,  to  require  of  the 
witness,  that  he  give  a  complete  and  unreserved  account  of  what 
he  knows  of  the  subject  of  the  trial,  whether  the  qi;estions  pro- 
posed to  him  reach  the  extent  of  his  knowledge  or  not.  So 
that  if  it  be  inquired  of  the  witness  afterwards,  why  he  did  not 
inform  the  court  so  and  so,  it  is  not  a  sufficient,  though  a  very 
common  answer,  to  say,  "  because  it  was  never  asked  me." 

I  know  but  one  exception  to  this  rule  ;  which  is,  when  a  full 
discovery  of  the  truth  tends  to  accuse  the  witness  himself  of  some 
legal  crime.  The  law  of  England  constrains  no  man  to  become 
his  own  accuser  ;  consequently  imposes  the  oath  of  testimony 
with  this  tacit  reservation.  But  the  exception  must  be  confined 
to  legal  crimes.  A  point  of  honour,  of  delicacy,  or  of  reputation, 
may  make  a  witness  backward  to  disclose  some  circumstance 
with  which  he  is  acquainted  ;  but  is  no  excuse  for  concealment, 
unless  it  could  be  shown,  that  the  law  which  imposes  the  oath, 
intended  to  allow  this  indulgence  to  such  motives.  The  excep- 
tion is  also  withdrawn  by  a  compact  between  the  magistrate  and 
the  witness,  when  an  accomplice  is  admitted  to  give  evidence 
against  the  partners  of  his  crime. 

Tenderness  to  the  prisoner  is  a  specious  apology  for  conceal- 
ment, but  no  just  excuse  :  for  if  this  plea  be  thought  sufficient, 
it  takes  the  administration  of  penal  justice  out  of  the  hands  of 
judges  and  juries,  and  makes  it  depend  upon  the  temper  of  pro- 
secutors and  witnesses. 

Questions  may  be  asked,  which  are  irrelative  to  the  cause, 
which  affect  the  witness  himself,  or  some  third  person  ;  in  which, 
and  in  all  cases  where  the  witness  doubts  of  the  pertinency  and 
propriety  of  the  question,  he  ought  to  refer  his  doubts  to  the 
court.  The  answer  of  the  court,  in  relaxation  of  the  oath,  is  au- 
thority enough  to  the  witness  ;  for  the  law  which  imposes  the  oath, 
ipay  remit  what  it  will  of  the  obligation  ;  and  it  belongs  to  the 
court  to  fJeclare  what  the  mind  of  the  law  is.  Nevertheless,  it 
cannot  be  said  universally,  that  the  answer  of  the  court  is  cou- 


■4' 


136  OATH  or  ALLEGIANCE. 

elusive  upon  the  consciei>ce  of  the  witness  ;  for  his  obligation  de- 
pends upon  what  he  apprehended,  at  the  time  of  taking  the  oath, 
to  be  the  design  of  Llie  law  in  imposing  it,  and  no  after-requi.sition 
or  explanation  by  the  court  can  carry  the  obligation  beyond  that^ 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

OATH  OF  ALLEGIANCE. 

*'  I  DO  sincerely  promise  and  swear  that  I  will  be  faithful 
*'  and  bear  true  allegiance  to  his  Majesty  King  George."  Foi'- 
merly  the  oath  of  allegiance  ran  thus  :  "  I  do  promise  to  be  true 
"  and  faithful  to  the  King,  and  his  heirs,  and  truth  and  faith 
"  to  bear,  of  life  and  limb,  and  terrene  honour  ;  and  not  to 
"  know  or  hear  of  any  ill  or  damage  intended  him,  without  de- 
"  fending  him  therefrom  ;"  and  was  altered  at  the  Revolutior\ 
to  the  present  form.  So  that  the  present  oath  is  a  relaxation  of 
the  old  one.  And  as  the  oath  was  intended  to  ascertain,  not  so 
much  the  extent  of  the  subject's  obedience,  as  to  whom  it  was 
due,  the  legislature  seems  to  have  wrapped  up  its  meaning  upon 
the  former  point,  in  a  word  purposely  made  choice  of  for  its 
general  and  indeterminate  signification. 

It  will  be  most  convenient  to  consider,  first,  what  the  oath  ex- 
cludes, as  inconsistent  with  it  ;  secondly,  what  it  permits. 

1.  The  oath  excludes  all  intention  to  support  the  claim  or 
pretensions  of  any  other  person  or  persons  than  the  reigning  sove- 
reign, to  the  crown  and  government.  A  Jacobite,  who  is  per- 
suaded of  the  pretender's  right  to  the  crown,  and  who  moreover 
designs  to  join  with  the  adherents  of  that  cause  to  assert  this 
right,  whenever  a  proper  opportunity,  with  a  reasonable  pros- 
pect of  success  presents  itself,  cannot  take  the  oath  of  allegiance  ; 
or,  if  he  could,  the  oath  of  abjuration  follows,  which  contains 
an  express  renunciation  of  all  opinions  in  favour  of  the  claim  of 
the  exiled  family. 


OATH  OF  ALLEGIANCE.  IS*? 

2.  Th^  onth  excludes  all  design,  at  the  time,  of  attempting 
to  depose  the  reigning  prince,  for  any  reason  whatever.  Let 
the  justice  of  the  Revolution  be  what  it  would,  no  honest  man 
could  have  taken  even  the  present  oath  of  allegiance  to  James 
the  Second,  who  entertained  at  the  time  of  taking  it,  a  design  of 
joining  in  the  measures  that  were  entered  into  to  dethrone  him. 

3.  The  oath  forbids  the  taking  up  of  arms  against  the  reigning 
prince,  with  views  of  private  advancement,  or  from  motives  of 
personal  resentment  or  dislike.  It  is  possible  to  happen  in  this, 
what  frequently  happens  in  despotic  governments,  that  an  ambi- 
tious general,  at  thfe  head  of  the  military  force  of  the  nation,  by 
a  conjuncture  of  fortunate  circumstances,  and  a  great  ascendency 
over  the  minds  of  the  soldiery,  might  depose  the  prince  upon 
the  throne,  and  make  way  to  it  for  himself,  or  for  some  creature 
of  his  own.  A  person  in  this  situation  w'ould  be  withheld  from 
such  an  attempt  by  the  oath  of  allegiance,  if  he  paid  any  regard 
to  it.  If  there  were  any  who  engaged  in  the  rebellion  of  the 
year  forty-five,  with  the  expectation  of  titles,  estates,  or  prefer- 
ment ;  or  because  they  were  disappointed,  and  thought  them- 
selves neglected  and  ill-used  at  court  ;  or  because  they  enter- 
tained a  family  animosity,  or  personal  resentment  against  the 
king,  the  favonrite,  or  the  minister ; — if  they  were  induced  to 
take  up  arms  by  these  motives,  they  added  to  the  many  crimes 
of  an  unprovoked  rebellion,  that  of  wilful  and  corrupt  perjury* 
If  the  same  motives  determined  others^  lately,  to  connect  them- 
selves with  the  American  opposition,  their  part  in  it  was  charge- 
able with  perfidy  and  falsehood  to  their  oath,  whatever  was  the 
Justice  of  the  opposition  itself,  or  however  well  founded  theif 
particular  complaint  might  be  of  private  injuries. 

We  are  next  to  consider  wliat  the  oath  of  allegiance  permits, 
or  does  not  require. 

1.  It  permits  resistance  to  the  king,  when  his  ill  behaviour  of 

imbecility  is  such  as  to  make  resistance  beneficial  to  the  com-" 

munity.     It  may  fairly  be  presumed,  that  the  Convention  Par^ 

liament,  which  introduced  the  oath  in  its  present  form,   did  not 

18 


J3u  UAIK  OF  ALLEGIANCE. 

intend,  by  imposing  it,  to  exclude  all  resistance,  since  the  mem- 
bers of  that  legislature  had  many  of  tliem  recently  taken  up  arms 
against  J;unes  the  Second  and  the  very  authority  hy  which  they 
sat  together  was  itself  the  effect  of  a  successful  opposition  to  an 
acknowledged.sovereign.  Some  resistance,  therefore,  was  meant 
to  be  allowed  ;  and  if  any,  it  must  be  that  which  has  the  public 
interest  for  its  object. 

2.  The  oath  does  not  require  obedience  to  such  commands  of 
the  king  as  are  uDauthorized  by  law.  No  such  obedience  is  im- 
plied by  the  terms  of  the  oath  ;  the  fidelity  there  promised,  is 
intended  of  fidelity  in  opposition  to  his  enemies,  and  not  in  op- 
position to  law  ;  and  allegiance,  at  the  utmost,  signifies  only 
obedience  to  lawful  commands.  Therefore,  if  the  king  should 
issue  a  proclamation,  levying  money,  or  imposing  any  service  or 
restraint  upon  the  subject,  beyond  what  the  crown  is  empowered 
by  law  to  enjoin,  there  would  exist  no  sort  of  obligation  to  obey 
such  a  proclamation  in  consequence  of  having  taken  the  oath  of 
allegiance. 

3.  The  oath  does  not  requii'e  that  we  should  continue  our  al- 
legiance to  the  king,  after  he  is  actually  and  absolutely  deposed, 
driven  into  exile,  carried  away  captive,  or  otherwise  rendered 
incapable  of  exercising  the  regal  office.  The  prt^.nise  of  allegi- 
ance implies,  and  is  understood  by  all  parties  to  suppose,  that 
the  person  to  whom  the  promise  is  made  continues  king  ;  con- 
tinues, that  is,  to  exercise  the  power,  and  afford  the  protection, 
which  belongs  to  the  office  of  king;  for,  it  is  the  possession  of 
this  power,  which  makes  such  a  particular  person  the  object  of 
the  oath  ;  without  it,  why  should  I  swear  allegiance  to  this  man, 
rather  than  to  any  other  man  in  the  kingdom  ?  Besides,  the  con- 
trary doctrine  is  burthened  with  this  conseqence,  that  every  con- 
quest, revolution  of  government,  or  disaster  which  befals  the  per- 
son of  the  prince,  must  be  followed  by  public  and  perpetual 
anarchr. 


OATH  AGAfNST  BRIBERY,— SIMONY,  130 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

OATH  AGAINST  BRIBERY  IN  THE  ELECTION  OF  MEMBERS 
OF  PARLIAMENT. 

"  I  DO  swear,  I  have  not  received,  or  had,  by  myself,  or  any 
"  person  whatsoever  in  trust  for  me,  or  for  my  use  and  benefit, 
"  directly  or  indirectly,  any  sum  or  sums  of  money,  office,  place, 
*'  or  employment,  gift,  or  reward  ;  or  any  promise  or  security, 
"  for  any  money,  office,  employment,  or  gift,  in  order  to  give 
■"  my  vote  at  this  election." 

The  sereral  contrivances  to  evade  this  oatb,  such  as  tlie  elec- 
iors  a-ccepting  motiey  under  colour  o(  borrovring,  and  giving  a 
promraissory  iwte,  or  other  security,  for  it,  which  is  cancelled 
after  the  election  ;  receiving  money  from  a  stranger,  or  a  person 
in  disguise,  or  out  of  a  drawer,  or  purse,  left  open  for  the  pur- 
pose ;  or  promises  of  money  to  be  paid  after  the  election  ;  or 
stipulating  for  a  place,  living,  or  other  private  advantage  of  any 
kind  ;  if  they  escape  the  legal  penalties  of  perjury,  incur  the 
moral  guilt :  for  they  are  manifestly  within  the  mischief  and  de- 
sign of  the  statute  which  imposes  the  oath,  and  within  the  ternif. 
indeed  of  the  oa(h  itself;  for  the  word  "  indirectly"  is  inserted 
on  purpose  to  comprehend  such  cases  as  these. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

OATH  AGAINST  SIMONY. 

FROM  an  imaginary  resemblance  bet^veen  the  purchase  of  a 
benefice  and  Simon  Magus'  attempt  to  purchase  the  gift  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  (Acts,  viii.  19.)  the  obtaining  of  a  presentation  by 
pecuniary  considerations  has  been  called  Simony. 


HO  OATH  AGALNbT  SIMOM. 

The  sale  of  advowsons  is  inse'parable  from  tlir  right  of  priyale 
patronage  ;  as  patronage  would  otherwise  devolve  to  the  must  in- 
digent, and  for  that  reason  the  mo'^t  improper  hands  it  could  be 
placed  in.  Nor  did  the  law  ever  intend  to  prohibit  the  passing 
of  advowsons  from  one  patron  to  another  ;  hut  to  restrain  the 
patron,  whp  possesses  the  right  of  presenting  at  the  vacancy, 
from  being  influenced,  in  the  choice  of  his  presenter,  by  a  brit/e^ 
or  benefit  to  himself.  It  is  the  same  distinction  with  that  which 
obtains  in  a  freeholder's  vote  for  his  represeiitative  in  parliament. 
The  right  of  voting,  that  is,  the  freehold  to  which  the  right  per- 
tains, may  be  bought  and  sold  as  freely  as  any  other  property  ; 
but  the  exercise  of  that  right,  the  vote  itself,  may  not  be  pur- 
chased, or  influenced  by  money. 

For  this  purpose,  the  law  imposes  upon  the  presentee,  who  is 
generally  concerned  in  the  simony,  if  there  be  any,  the  follow- 
ing oath  :  "  I  do  swear,  that  I  have  made  no'simoniacul  payment, 
^'  contract,  or  promise,  directly  or  indirectly,  by  myself,  or  by 
<'  any  other  to  my  knowledge,  or  with  my  consent,  to  any  per- 
"  son  or  persons  whatsoever,  for  or  concerning  the  procuring  and 
"  obtaining  of  this  ecclesiastical  place,  &c.  ;  nor  will,  at  any 
*'  time  hereafter,  perform,  or  satisfy,  any  such  kind  of  paynicnt, 
*'  contract,  or  promise,  made  by  any  other  without  my  knowledge 
"  or  consent  :   So  help  me  God,  through  Jesus  Christ." 

It  is  extraordinary  that  Bishop  Gibson  should  have  thought  this 
oath  to  be  against  all  promises  whatsoever,  when  the  terms  of 
the  oath  expressly  restrain  it  to  simoniacal  promises  ;  and  the 
law  alone  must  pronounce  what  promises,  as  well  as  what  pay- 
ments and  contracts  are  simoniacal,  and  consequently  come  within 
the  oath  ;  and  what  arc  not  so. 

Now  the  law  adjudges  to  be  simony, 

1.  All  payments,  contracts,  or  promises,  made  by  any  person 
for  a  benefice  already  vacant.  The  advowson  of  a  void  turn,  by 
law,  cannot  be  transferred  frpm  one  patron  to  anodier  ;  there- 
fore, if  the  void  turn  be  procqrpd  by  money,  it  must  be  by  a 
pecuniary  influence  upon  the  Ihpn  subsisting  patron  in  the  choice 
of  his  proscnlee,  which  is  the  veiy  pvaotico  the  law  condemns, 


OATH  AGAINST  SIMONY.  141 

2.  A  clergyman's  purchasing  of  the  next  turn  of  a  benefice 
for  himself,  "  directly  or  indirectly,"  that  is,  by  himself,  or  by 
another  person  with  his  money.  It  does  not  appear  that  the  law 
prohibits  a  clergyman  from  purchasing  the  perpetuity  of  a  pat- 
ronage, more  than  any  other  person  :  but  purchasing  the  perpe- 
tuity, and  forthwith  selling  it  again,  with  a  reservation  of  the 
next  turn,  and  with  no  other  design  than  to  possess  himself  of  the 
next  turn,  is  m  fraudem  legis,  and  inconsistent  with  the  oath. 

3.  The  procuring  of  a  pie.ce  of  preferment,  by  ceding  to  the 
patron  any  rights,  or  probable  rights,  belonging  to  it.  This  is 
simony  of  the  worst  kind  ;  for  it  is  not  only  buying  preferment, 
but  robbing  your  successor  to  pay  for  it. 

4.  Promises  to  the  patron  of  a  portion  of  the  profit,  of  a  re- 
mission of  tithes  and  dues,  or  other  advantages  out  of  the  produce 
uf  the  benefice  :  which  kind  of  compact  is  a  pernicious  conde- 
scension in  the  clergy,  independent  of  the  oath  ;  for  it  tends  to 
introduce  a  practice,  which  may  ver}'  soon  become  general,  of 
giving  the  revenues  of  churches  to  the  lay  patrons,  and  supply- 
ing the  duty  by  indigent  stipendiaries. 

5.  General  bonds  of  resignation,  that  is,  bonds  to  resign  upoa 
demand. 

I  doubt  not  but  that  the  oath  is  binding  upon  the  consciences 
of  those  who  take  it,  though  I  question  much  the  expediency  of 
requiring  it.  It  is  very  fit  to  debar  public  patrons,  such  as  the 
king,  the  lord  chancellor,  bishops,  ecclesiastical  corporations, 
and  the  like,  from  this  kind  of  traffic  :  because  from  them  may 
be  expected  some  regard  to  the  qualifications  of  the  persons 
whom  they  promote.  But  the  oath  lays  a  snare  for  the  in- 
tegrity of  the  clergy  ;  and  I  do  not  perceive,  that  the  requiring 
of  it  in  cases  of  private  patronage  produces  any  good  etTect,  suf- 
ficient to  compensate  for  this  danger. 

Where  advowsons  are  holden  along  with  manors,  or  other 
principal  estates,  it  would  be  an  easy  regulation  to  forbid  that 
they  should  ever  hereafter  be  separated  ;  and  would  at  least 
keep  church-preferment  out  of  the  hands  of  brokex's. 


142  OAIITS  TO  OBSERVE  LOCAL  STATUTES. 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

OATHS  TO  OBSERVE  LOCAL  STATUTES. 

MEMBERS  of  colleges  in  the  Universities,  and  of  other  an- 
cient foundations,  are  required  to  swear  to  the  observance  of  their 
respective  statutes  :  which  observance  is  become  in  some  cases 
unlawful,  in  others  impracticable,  in  others  useless,  in  others  in- 
convenient. 

Unlawful  directions  are  countermanded  by  the  authority  which 
«ade  them  unlawful. 

Impracticable  directions  are  dispensed  with  by  the  necessity 
of  the  case. 

The  only  question  \-,  how  far  the  members  of  these  societies 
may  take  upon  themselves  to  judge  of  the  hiconvenicnc.y  of  any 
particular  direction,  and  make  that  a  reason  for  laying  aside  the 
©bservation  of  it. 

The  animus  imponentis,  which  is  the  measure  of  the  juror's 
duty,  seems  to  be  satisfied,  when  nothing  is  omitted,  but  what, 
from  some  c'^'Uige  in  the  reason  and  circumstances  under  which 
it  was  prescribed,  it  may  fairly  be  presumed  that  the  founder 
himself  would  have  dispensed  with. 

To  bring  a  case  within  this  rule,  the  inconvcniency  must, 

1.  Be  manifest  ;  concerning  which  there  is  no  doubt. 

2.  It  must  arise  from  some  change  in  the  circumstances  of  the 
institution  ;  for,  let  the  inconveniency  be  what  it  will,  if  it  ex- 
isted at  the  time  of  the  foundation,  it  must  be  presumed  that  the 
founder  did  not  deem  the  avoiding  of  it  of  sufficient  importance 
to  alter  his  plan. 

3.  It  must  not  only  be  inconvenient  in  the  general,  (ibr  so  may 
the  institution  itself  be,)  but  prejudicial  to  the  particular  end 
proposed  by  the  institutution  ;  for  it  is  this  last  circumstance 
which  proves  that  the  founder  would  have  dispensed  with  it  in 
pursuance  of  his  own  purpose. 


ARTICLES  OF  RELIGION,  US 

The  statutes  of  some  colleges  forbid  the  speaking  of  any  lan- 
guage but  Latin  within  the  walls  of  the  college  ;  direct  that  a  cer- 
tain number,  and  not  fewer  than  that  number,  be  allowed  the  use 
of  an  apartment  amongst  them  ;  that  so  many  hours  of  each  day 
be  employed  in  public  exercises,  lectures,  or  disputations  ;  and 
some  other  articles  of  discipline,  adapted  to  the  tender  years  of 
the  students  who  in  former  times  resorted  to  universities.  Were 
colleges  to  retain  such  rules,  nobody  now-a-days  would  come 
near  them.  They  are  laid  aside  therefore,  though  parts  of  the 
statutes,  and  as  such  included  within  the  oath,  not  merely  be- 
cause they  are  inconvenient,  but  because  there  is  sufficient  rea- 
son to  believe,  that  the  founders  themselves  would  have  dispensed 
witli  them  as  sul)versive  of  their  own  designs. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

SUBSCRIPTION  TO  ARTICLES  OF  RELIGION. 

SUBSCRIPTION  to  articles  of  religion,  though  no  more  than 
a  declaration  to  the  subscriber's  assent,  may  properly  enough  be 
considered  in  connexion  with  the  subject  of  oaths,  because  it  is 
governed  by  the  same  rule  of  interpretation  : 

Which  rule  is  the  animus  iuiponentis. 

The  inquiry,  therefore,  concerning  subscription  will  be,  quis 
imposuit,  et  quo  animo  ? 

The  bishop  who  receives  the  subscription  is  not  the  imposer, 
any  more  than  the  cryer  of  a  court,  who  administers  the  oath  to 
the  jury  and  witnesses,  is  the  person  that  imposes  it  ;  nor,  con- 
sequently, is  the  private  opinion  or  interpretation  of  the  bishop 
of  any  signification  to  the  subscriber,  one  way  or  other. 

The  compilers  of  the  Thirty-nine  Articles  are  not  to  be  con- 
sidered as  the  imposers  of  subscription,  any  more  than  the  framer 
or  drawer  up  of  a  law  is  the  person  that  enacts  it. 


144  ARTICLES  OF  RELIGION. 

The  legislature  of  the  13th  Eliz.  is  the  imposcr,  whose  inteR- 
lion  the  subscriber  is  bound  to  satisfy. 

Tiiey  who  contend,  that  nothing  less  can  justify  subscription 
to  the  Thirty-nine  Articles,  than  the  actual  belief  of  each  and 
every  separate  proposition  contained  in  them,  must  suppose,  that 
the  legislature  expected  the  consent  of  ten  thousand  men,  and 
that  in  perpetual  succession,  not  to  one  controverted  proposition, 
but  to  many  hundreds.  It  is  difficult  to  conceive  how  this  could 
ke  expected  by  any  who  observed  the  incurable  diversity  of  hu- 
man opinion  upon  all  subjects  short  of  demonstration. 

If  the  authors  of  the  law  did  not  intend  this,'  what  did  they 
intend  ? 

They  intended  to  exclude  from  offices  in  the  church, 

1.  All  abettors  of  Popery  : 

2.  Anabaptists,  who  were  at  that  time  a  powerful  party  on  the 
Continent  : 

3.  The  Puritans,  who  were  hostile  to  the  episcopal  constitu- 
tion ;  and  in  general  the  members  of  such  leading  sects,  or  foreign 
establishments,  as  threatened  to  overthrow  our  own. 

Whoever  finds  himself  comprehended  within  these  descrip- 
tions, ought  not  to  subscribe. 

During  the  present  state  of  ecclesiastical  patronage,  in  which 
private  individuals  are  permitted  to  impose  teachers  upon  par- 
ishes, with  which  they  are  often  little  or  not  at  all  connected, 
some  limitation  of  the  patron's  choice  may  be  necessary,  to  pre- 
vent unedifying  contentions  between  neighbouring  teachers,  or 
between  the  teachers  and  their  respective  congregations.  But 
this  danger,  if  it  exist,  may  be  provided  against  with  equal  effect, 
by  converting  the  articles  of  faith  into  articles  of  peace. 


^*M: 


WILLS.  145 


CHAPTER  XXIIL 

WILLS. 

THE  fundamental  question  upon  this  subject  is,  W^hether  wills 
are  of  natural  or  of  adventitious  right  ?  that  is,  whether  the  right 
of  directing  the  disposition  of  property  after  his  death  belongs 
to  a  man  in  a  state  of  nature,  and  by  the  law  of  nature  ;  or  wheth- 
er it  be  given  him  entirely  by  the  positive  regulations  of  the 
country  he  lives  in  ? 

The  immediate  produce  of  each  man's  personal  labour,  as  the 
tools,  weapons,  and  utensils  which  he  Manufactures,  the  tent  or 
hut  he  builds,  and  perhaps  the  flocks  and'befds'-whfch  he  breeds 
and  rears,  are  as  much  his  own  as  the  labour  .wa?j  which  he  em- 
ployed upon  them  ;  that  is,  are  his  property  naiuraJly  and  abso- 
lutely, and  consecjuently  he  niay  give  or  leave  th^  to  whom  he 
pleases,  there  being  nothing  to  limit  the  continuance  of  his  right, 
or  to  restrain  the  alienation  of  it. 

But  every  other  species  of  property,  especially  property  iu 
land,  stands  upon  a  dififerent  foundation. 

We  have  seen,  in  the  Chapter  upon  Property,  that,  in  a  state 
of  nature,  a  man's  right  to  a  particular  spot  of  ground  arises  from 
his  using  it,  and  wanting  it  ;  consequently  ceases  with  the  use  and 
want  :  so  that  at  his  death  the  estate  reverts  to  the  community, 
without  any  regard  to  the  last  owner's  will,  or  even  any  prefer- 
ence of  his  family,  further  than  as  they  become  the  first  occu- 
piers after  him,  and  succeed  to  the  same  want  and  use. 

Moreover,  as  natural  rights  cannot,  like  rights  created  by  act 
of  parliament,  expire  at  the  end  of  a  certain  number  of  years,  if 
the  testator  have  a  right,  by  the  law  of  nature,  to  dispose  of  his 
property  one  moment  after  his  death,  he  has  the  same  right  to 
direct  the  disposition  of  it,  for  a  million  of  ages  after  Lim  ;  which 
is  absurd. 

19 


14l;  wills. 

The  ancient  apprehensions  of  mankind  upon  the  subject  were 
conformable  to  this  account  of  it  :  for  wills  have  been  introdu- 
ce<l  into  most  countries  by  a  positive  act  of  the  state  ;  as  by  the 
Laws  of  Solon  into  Greece  ;  by  the  Twelve  Tables  into  Rome  ; 
and  that  not  till  after  a  considerable  progress  had  been  made  in 
legislation,  and  in  the  economy  of  civil  life.  Tacitus  relates, 
that  amongst  the  Germans  they  were  disallowed  ;  and  what  is 
more  remarkable,  since  the  Conquest,  lands  in  this  country  could 
not  be  devised  by  will,  till  within  little  more  than  two  hundred 
years  ago,  when  this  privilege  was  restored  to  the  subject,  by  an 
act  of  parliament,  in  the  latter  end  ol  the  reign  of  Henry  the 
Eighth. 

No  doubt,  many  beneficial  purposes  are  attained  by  extend- 
ing the  owner'^s  power  over  his  property  beyond  his  life,  and 
beyond  his  natural  right.  It  invites  to  industry  ;  it  encourages 
marriage  ;  it  secures  the  dutifulness  and  dependency  of  children  : 
but  a  limit  must  be  assigned  to  the  duration  of  this  power.  The 
utmost  extent  to  which,  in  any  case,  entails  are  allowed  by  the 
laws  of  England  to  operate,  is  during  the  lives  in  existence  at  the. 
death  of  the  testator,  and  one  and  twenty  years  beyond  these  ; 
after  which,  there  are  ways  and  means  of  setting  them  aside. 

From  the  consideration  that  wills  are  the  creatures  of  the  mu- 
nicipal law  which  gives  them  their  efficacy,  may  be  deduced  a 
determination  of  the  question,  whether  the  intention  of  the  tes- 
tator in  an  informal,  will  be  binding  upon  the  conscience  of 
those  who  by  operation  of  law,  succeed  to  his  estate.  By  an 
informal  \\]\\,  I  moan  a  will  void  in  law,  for  want  of  some  requi- 
site formality",  though  no  doubt  be  entertained  of  its  meaning  or 
authenticity  :  as,  suppose  a  man  make  his  will,  devising  his 
freehold  estate  to  his  sister's  son,  and  the  wJll  be  attested  by 
two  only,  instead  of  three  subscribing  witnesses  ;  would  the 
brother's  son,  who  is  heir  at  law  to  the  testator,  be  bound  in 
conscience  to  resign  his  claim  to  the  estate,  out  of  deference  to 
his  uncle's  intention  ?  or,  on  the  contrary,  would  not  the  de- 
visee under  the  will  be  bound,  upon  discovery  of  this  flaw  in  it. 


WILLS.  liT 

;tp  sarrender  the  estate,  suppose  he  had  gained  possession  of  it, 
to  the  heir  at  law  ? 

Generally  speaking,  the  heir  at  law  is  not  bound  by  the  inten- 
tion of  the  testator  ;  for,  the  intention  can  signify  nothing,  unless 
the  person   intending  have  a  right  to  govern  the  descent  of  the 
estate.     That  is  the  first  question.     Now  this  right  the  testator 
can  only  derive  from  the  law  of  the  land  :   but  the   law  confers 
the  right  upon  certain   conditions,   which  conditions   he  has  not 
complied  with  ;  therefore,  the  testator  can   lay  no  claim  to  the 
power  which  he  pretends   to  exercise,   as   he   hath  not  entitled 
himself  to  the  benefit  of  that  law,   by  virtue  of  which  alone  the 
estate  ought  to  attend  his  disposaL     Consequently,  the  devisee 
under  the  will,  who,  by  concealing  this  flaw  in  it,  keeps  posses- 
sion of  Ihe  estate,  is  in  the  situation  of  any  other  person,   who 
avail?  himself  of  his  neighbour's  ignorance  to  detain  from  him 
fcis  prcperty^     The  will  is  so  much  waste  paper,  Irom  the  defect 
ol  right  ia  the  person  wiio  made  it.     Nor  is  this   catching  at  au 
oxpressicn  of  law  to  pervert   the   substantial  design  of  it  :   for  I 
apprehend   it  to   be  the  deliberate  mind  of  the  legislature,  that 
110  will  should  take  effect  upon  real  estates,  unless  autlienticated 
in  the  precise  manner  which   ihe  statute  describes.     Had  testa- 
mentary dispositions   been  founded,  in  any  natural  right,   inde- 
pendent of  positive  constitutions,   I  should  have  thought  difler- 
•ently  of  this  question  :  for  then  I   should   have  considered  the 
lavr  rather  as  refusing  its  assistance   to  enforce  the  right  of  the 
devisee,  than  as  extinguishing  or  working  any  alteration  in  the 
right  itself. 

And  after  all,  I  should  choose  to  propose  a  case,  where  no 
consideration  of  pity  to  distress,  of  duty  to  a  parent,  or  of  grati- 
tude to  a  benefactor,  interfered  widi  the  general  rule  of  justice. 
The  regard  due  to  kindred  in  the  disposal  of  our  fortune,  (ex- 
cept the  case  of  lineal  kindred,  which  is  different,)  arises  either 
from  the  respect  we  owe  to  the  presumed  intention  of  the  an- 
cestor from  whom  we  received  our  fortunes,  or  from  the  expecta- 
tions which  we  have  encouraged.     The  intention  of  the  ancestor 


148  WILLS. 

is  presumed  with  greater  certainty,  as  v.ell  as  entitled  to  more 
respect,  the  fewer  degrees  he  is  removed  from  us  ;  Avhich  makes 
the  difTcrence  in  the  difl'crent  degrees  of  kindred.  It  may  he 
presumed  to  he  a  father's  intention  and  desire,  that  the  inheri- 
tance he  leaves,  after  it  has  served  the  turn  and  generation  of 
one  son,  should  remain  a  provision  for  the  families  of  his  other 
children,  equally  relatcd-and  dear  to  him  as  the  eldest.  Who- 
ever, therefore,  v\  ithout  cause,  gives  away  his  patrimony  from 
his  hrother's  or  sister's  family,  is  guilty  not  so  much  of  an  inju- 
ry to  them,  as  of  ingratitude  to  his  parent.  The  deference  due 
from  the  possessor  of  a  fortune  to  the  presumed  desire  of  his, 
ancestor,  will  also  vary  with  this  circumstance,  whether  the 
ancestor  earned  the  fortune  by  his  personal  industry,  acquired 
it  by  accidental  success,  or  only  transmitted  the  inheritance 
which  he  received. 

Where  a  man's  fortune  is  acquired  by  himself,  and  he  has 
done  nothing  to  excite  expectation,  but  rather  has  refrained  from 
those  particular  attentions  which  tend  to  cherish  expectation,  he 
is  perfectly  disengaged  from  the  force  of  the  above  reasons,  and 
at  liberty  to  leave  his  fortune  to  his  friends,  to  charitable  or 
puljlic  purposes,  or  to  whom  he  will  ;  the  same  blood,  proximi- 
ty of  blood,  and  the  like,  are  merely  modes  of  speech,  imply- 
ing nothing  real,  nor  any  obligation  of  themselves. 

There  is  always,  however,  a  reason  for  providing  for  our  poor 
relations,  in  preference  to  others  who  may  be  equally  necessi- 
tous, which  is,  that  if  we  do  not,  no  one  else  will ;  mankind,  by 
an  established  consent,  leaving  the  reduced  branches  of  good 
families  to  the  bounty  of  their  wealthy  alliances. 

The  not  making  a  ulU,  is  a  very  culpable  omission,  where  it 
is  attended  with  the  following  eiVects  :  where  it  leaves  daugh- 
ters, or  younger  children,  at  the  mercy  of  the  eldest  son  ;  where 
it  distributes  a  personal  fortune  equally  amongst  the  children, 
although  there  be  no  equality  in  their  exigences  or  situations  ; 
where  it  leaves  an  opening  for  litigation  ;  or,  lastly,  and  princi- 
pally, where  it  defrauds  creditors  :  for,  by  a  defect  in  our  laws. 


WILLS.  149 

which  has  been  long  and  strangely  overlooked,  real  estates  are 
not  subject  to  the  payment  of  debts  by  simple  contract,  unless 
made  so  by  will  ;  although  credit  is,  in  fact,  generally  given  to 
the  possession  of  such  estates  :  he,  therefore,  who  neglects  to 
make  the  necessary  appointments  for  the  payment  of  his  debts, 
as  far  as  his  effects  extend,  sins,  as  it  has  been  justly  said,  in  his 
grave  :  and  if  he  omits  this  on  purpose  to  defeat  the  demands  of 
his  creditors,  he  dies  with  a  deliberate  fraud  in  his  heart. 

Anciently,  when  any  one  died  without  a  will,  the  bishop  of 
the  diocese  took  possession  of  his  personal  fortune,  in  order  to 
dispose  of  it  for  the  benefit  of  his  soul,  that  is,  to  pious  or  chari- 
table uses.  It  became  necessary,  therefore,  that  the  bishop 
should  be  satisfied  of  the  authenticity  of  the  will,  when  there  was 
any,  before  he  resigned  the  right  he  had  to  take  possession  of 
the  dead  man's  fortune  in  case  of  intestacy.  In  this  way,  wills, 
and  contrvoersies  relating  to  wills,  came  within  the  cognizance 
of  ecclesiastical  courts  ;  under  the  jurisdiction  of  which,  wills  of 
personals  (the  only  wills  that  were  made  formerly)  still  continue, 
though  in  truth,  no  more  now-a-days  connected  with  religion, 
than  any  oth«r  instruments  of  conveyance.  This  is  a  peculiarity 
in  the  English  law. 

Succession  to  intestates  must  be  regulated  by  positive  rules  of 
law,  there  being  no  principle  of  natural  justice  whereby  to  ascer- 
tain the  proportion  of  the  different  claimants  :  not  to  mention  that 
the  claim  itself,  especially  of  collateral  kindred,  seems  to  have 
little  foundation  in  the  law  of  nature. 

These  regulations  should  be  guided  by  the  duty  and  presumed 
inclination  of  the  deceased,  so  far  as  these  considerations  can  be 
consulted  by  general  rules.  The  statutes  of  Charles  the  Second, 
commonly  called  the  Statutes  of  Distribution,  which  adopt  the 
rule  of  the  Roman  law  in  the  distribution  of  personals,  are  suffi- 
ciently equitable.  They  assign  one-third  to  the  widow,  and 
two-thirds  to  the  children  ;  in  case  of  no  children,  one-half  to 
the  widow,  and  the  other  half  to  the  next  of  kin  ;  where  neither 
widow  aor  lineal  descendants  survive,  the  whole  to  the  next  of  kin, 


16«  WILLS. 

and  to  be  equally  divided  amongst  kindred  of  equal  degrees,  with- 
out distinction  of  whole  blood  and  half  blood,  or  of  consanguinity 
by  the  father's  or  mother's  side. 

The  descent  of  real  estates,  of  houses,  that  is,  and  land,  having 
been  settled  in  more  remote  and  in  ruder  times,  is  less  reasona- 
ble. There  never  can  be  much  to  complain  of  in  a  rule  which 
every  person  may  avoid,  by  so  easy  a  provision  as  that  of  mak- 
ing his  will  :  otherwise,  our  law  in  this  respect  is  chargeable 
Tvitb  some  flagrant  absurdities  ;  such  as,  that  an  estate  shall  in 
no  wise  go  to  the  brother  or  sister  of  the  half  blood,  though  it 
came  to  the  deceased  from  the  common  parent  ;  that  it  shall  go 
to  the  remotest  relation  the  intestate  has  in  the  world,  rather  than 
to  his  own  father  or  mother  ;  or  even  be  forfeited  for  want  of  an 
heir,  though  both  parents  survive  ;  that  the  most  distant  paternal 
relation  shall  be  preferred  to  an  uncle,  or  own  cousin,  by  the 
mother's  side,  notwithstanding  the  estate  was  purchased  and  ac- 
quired by  the  intestate  himself. 

Land  not  being  so  divisible  as  money,  may  be  a  reason  for 
iuaking  a  difference  in  the  course  of  inheritance  ;  but  there  ought 
to  be  no  difference  but  what  is  founded  upon  that  reason.  The 
Soman  law  made  none. 


BOOK  III. 


PART  II. 

0F  RELATIVE  DUTIES  WHICH  ARE  INDETERMINATE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

CHARITY. 


I  USE  the  term  Charity  neither  in  the  common  sense  of  bounty 
to  the  poor,  nor  in  St.  Paul's  sense  of  benevolence  to  all  man- 
kind ;  but  I  apply  it  at  present,  in  a  sense  more  commodious  to  my 
purpose,  to  signify  tke  promoting  the  happiness  of  our  inferiors. 

Charity,  in  this  sense,  I  take  to  be  the  principal  province  of 
virtue  and  religion  ;  for,  whilst  worldly  prudence  will  direct  our 
behaviour  towards  our  superiors,  and  politeness  towards  our 
equals,  there  is  little  beside  the  consideration  of  duty,  or  an  ha- 
bitual humanity  which  comes  into  the  place  of  consideration  tr> 
produce  a  proper  conduct  towards  those  who  are  beneath  us, 
and  dependent  upon  us. 

There  are  three  principal  methods  of  promoting  the  happiness 
•four  inferiors  : — 

1.  By  the  treatment  of  our  domestics  and  dependants. 

2.  By  professional  assistance. 

3.  By  pecuniary  bounty. 


152  CHARITY. 

CHAPTER  ir. 

CHARITY. 

THE  TREATMEjYT  OF  OUR  DOMESTICS  AXD 
DEPENDANTS. 

A  PARTY  of  friends  setting  out  together  upon  a  journey, 
^  soon  find  it  to  be  the  best  for  all  sides,  that  while  tliey  are  upon 
f  the  road,  one  of  tho  company  should  wait  upon  the  rest ;  another 
ride  forward  to  seek  out  lodging  and  ontertaininont ;  a  third  carry 
the  portmanteau  ;  a  fourth  take  charge  of  the  horses  ;  a  fifth 
bear  the  purse,  conduct  and  direct  the  route  ;  not  forgetting, 
however,  that  as  they  were  equal  and  independent  when  they 
set  out,  so  they  are  all  to  return  to  a  level  again  at  their  jour- 
ney's end.  The  same  regard  and  respect ;  the  same  forbear- 
ance, lenity,  and  tcnderuess  in  using  their  service  ;  the  same 
mildness  in  delivering  commands  ;  the  same  study  to  make  their 
journey  comfortable  and  agreeable  to  them,  which  he  whose  lot  it 
was  to  direct  the  rest,  would  in  common  decency  think  himself 
bound  to  observe  towards  them,  ought  we  to  show  to  those,  who, 
in  the  casting  of  the  parts  of  human  society,  happen  to  be  placed 
within  our  power,  or  to  depend  upon  us. 

Another  reflection  of  a  like  tendency  with  the  former  is,  that 
our  obligation  to  them  is  much  greater  than  theirs  to  us.  It  is  a 
mistake  to  suppose,  that  the  rich  man  maintains  his  servants, 
■  tradesmen,  tenants^  and  labourers  ;  the  t'-uth  is,  they  maintain 
him.  It  is  their  industry  which  supplies  his  table,  furnishes  his 
Avardrobe,  builds  his  houses,  adorns  his  equipage,  provides  his 
amusements.  It  is  not  his  estate,  but  the  labour  employed  upon 
it,  that  pays  his  rent.  All  that  he  does,  is  to  distribute  what 
others  produce  ;  which  is  the  least  part  of  the  business. 

Nor  do  I  perceive  any  foundation  for  an  opinion,  which  is  oftery 
liandcd  round  in  genteel  company,  that  good  usage  is  thrown 


SLAVERY.  163 

atvay  upon  low  and  ordinary  minds  ;  that  they  are  insensible  of 
kindness,  and  incapable  of  gratitude.  If  by  "  low  and  ordinary 
'*  minds"  are  mcnnt  the  minds  of  men  in  low  and  ordinary  sta- 
tions, they  seem  to  be  affected  by  benefits  in  the  same  way  that 
all  others  are,  and  to  be  no  less  ready  to  requite  them  ;  and  it 
Would  be  a  very  unaccountable  law  of  nature  if  it  were  otherwise. 

Whatever  uneasiness  we  occasion  to  our  domestics,  which  nei- 
ther promotes  our  service,  nor  ansjvers  the  just  ends  of  punish- 
ment, is  manifestly  wrong  ;  were  it  only  upon  the  general  prin- 
ciple of  diminishing  the  sum  of  human  happiness. 

By  which  rule  we  are  forbidden, 

1.  To  enjoin  unnecessary  labour  or  confinement,  from  the 
tnere  love  and  wantonness  of  domination. 

2.  To  insult  them  by  harsh,  scornful,  or  opprobrious  language. 

3.  To  refuse  them  any  harmless  pleasures. 

And,  by  the  same  principle,  are  also  forbidden  causeless  or 
immoderate  anger,  habitual  peevishness,  and  groundless  suspi' 
cion. 


CHAPTER  IIL 

SLAVERY. 

THE  prohibitions  of  the  last  chapter  extend  to  the  treatment 
of  slaves,  being  founded  upon  a  principle  independent  of  thecon- 
tract  between  masters  and  servants. 

I  define  slavery  to  be  "  an  obligation  to  labour  for  the  benefit 
"  of  the  master,  without  the  contract  or  consent  of  the  servant." 

This  obligation  may  arise,  consistently  wilh  the  law  of  nature, 
irom  three  causes  : — 

1.  From  crimes. 

2,  From  captivity. 
^.  From  debt. 

20 


j.j^  SLAVERY. 

In  the  first  case,  the  continuance  of  the  slavery,  as  of  any  other 
punishment,  ouglit  to  be  proportioned  to  the  crime  ;  in  the  second 
and  third  cases,  it  ouyht  to  cease,  as  soon  as  tlie  demand  of  the 
injured  nation,  or  private  creditor,  is  satisfied. 

The  slave-trade  upon  the  coast  of  Africa  is  not  excused  by 
these  principles.  When  slaves  are  in  that  country  brought  to 
market,  no  questions,  I  believe,  are  asked  about  the  origin  or 
justice  of  the  vender's  title.  It  may  be  presumed,  therefore, 
that  this  title  is  not  always,  if  it  be  ever,  founded  in  any  of  the 
causes  above  asssigned. 

But  defect  of  right  in  the  ili-st  purchase  is  the  least  crime  with 
which  this  traffic  is  chargeable.  The  natives  are  excited  to  war 
and  mutual  depredation,  for  the  sake  of  supplying  their  contracts, 
or  furnishing  the  market  with  slaves.  With  this  the  wickedness 
begins.  The  slaves,  torn  away  from  parents,  wives,  children, 
from  their  friends  and  companions,  their  fields  andilocks,  their 
home  and  country,  are  transported  to  the  European  settlements 
in  America,  with  no  other  accommodation  on  shipboard  than 
what  is  provided  for  brutes.  This  is  the  second  stage  of  cruelty  ; 
from  which  the  miserable  exiles  are  delivered,  only  to  be  placed, 
and  that  for  life,  in  subjection  to  a  dominion  and  system  of  laws, 
the  most  merciless  and  tyrannical  that  ever  were  tolerated  upon 
the  face  of  the  earth ;  and  from  all  that  can  be  learned  by  the 
accounts  of  people  upon  thfi,^pot,  the  inordinate  authority  which 
the  plantation  laws  confer  upon  the  slaveholder,  is  exercised  by 
the  English  slaveholder,  especially,  with  rigour  and  brutality. 

But  necessity  is  pretended,  the  name  under  which  all  enormi- 
ties are  attempted  to  be  excused.  And,  after  afl,  what  is  the  ne- 
cessity ?  It  has  never  been  proved  tha*  the  land  could  not  be 
cultivated  there,  as  it  is  here,  by  hired  servants.  It  is  said  that 
it  could  not  be  cultivated  with  quite  the  same  conveniency  and 
cheapness,  as  by  the  labour  of  slaves  ;  by  which  means,  a  pound 
of  sugar,  which  the  planter  now  sells  for  sixpence,  could  not  be 
afforded  under  sixpence-half-penny  ; — and  this  is  the  juxessity. 


SLAVERY.  155 

The  great  revolution  which  hns  taken  place  in  the  western 
world  may  probably  conduce,  and  who  knows  but  that  it  was 
designed  to  accelerate,  the  fall  of  this  abominable  tyranny  ;  and 
now  that  this  contest,  and  the  passions  which  attend  it,  are  no 
more,  there  may  succeed,  perhaps,  a  season  for  reflecting,  whe- 
ther a  legislature,  which  had  so  long  lent  its  assistance  to  the 
support  of  an  institution  replete  with  human  misery,  was  fit  to  be 
trusted  with  an  empire  the  most  extensive  that  ever  obtained  m 
any  age  or  quarter  of  the  world. 

Slavery  was  a  part  of  the  civil  constitution  of  most  countries 
%vhen  Christianity  appeared  ;  yet  no  passage  is  to  be  found  m 
the  Christian  Scriptures  by  which  it  is  condemned  or  prohibited. 
This  is  true  :  for  Christianity,  soliciting  admission  into  all  na- 
tions of  the  world,  abstained,  as  behoved  \i,  from  intermeddling 
with  the  civil  institutions  of  any.  But  does  it  follow,  from  the 
silence  of  Scripture  concerning  them,  that  all  the  civil  institutions 
which  Ifoert  prevailed  were  right  ?  or  that  the  bad  should  not  be 
exchanged  for  better  ? 

Besides  this,  ihe  discharging  of  slaves  from  all  obligation  tc 
•obey  their  masters,  which  is  the  conse({uence  of  pronouncing 
slavery  to  be  unlawful,  would  have  had  no  better  effect,  than 
to  let  loose  one  half  of  mankind  upon  other.  Slaves  would  have 
been  tempted  to  embrace  a  religion  which  asserted  their  right  to 
freedom  :  masters  would  hardly  have  been  persuaded  to  consent 
to  claims  founded  upon  such  authority  ;  the  most  calamitous  of 
all  contests,  a  bellum  servile,  might  probably  have  ensued,  to  the 
reproach,   if  not  the  extinction  of  the  Christian  nanle. 

The  truth  is,  the  emancipation  of  slaves  should  be  gradual, 
and  be  carried  on  by  provisions  of  law,  and  under  the  piotectioo 
of  civil  government.  Christianity  can  only  operate  as  an  alter- 
native. By  the  mild  diffusion  of  its  light  and  influence,  the 
minds  of  men  are  insensibly  prepared  to  perceive  and  correct 
the  enormities  which  folly,  or  wickedness,  or  accident,  have  in- 
troduced into  their  public  establishments.  In  this  way  the  Greek 
and  Roman  slavery,  and  since  these,  the  feudal  tyranny,  ha?  de- 


156  PROFESSIONAL  ASSISTANCE. 

clined  before  it.  And  we  trust,  that,  as  the  knowledge  and  au- 
thority of  the  same  religion  advance  in  the  world,  they  will  ban- 
ish what  remains  of  this  odious  institution. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

CHARITY. 

PROFESSIOKJiL  ASSISTANCE. 

THIS  kind  of  beneficence  is  chiefly  to  be  expected  froHi 
members  of  the  legislature,  magistrates,  medical,  legal,  and  sa- 
cerdotal  professions. 

1.  The  care  of  the  poor  ought  to  be  the  principal  object  of  all 
laws  ;  for  this  plain  reason,  that  the  rich  are  able  to  lake  care 
of  themselves. 

Much  has  been,  and  more  might  be  done,  by  the  laws  of  this 
country,  towards  the  relief  of  the  impotent,  and  the  protection 
and  encouragement  of  the  industrious  poor.  Whoever  applies 
himself  to  collect  observations  upon  the  state  and  operation  of 
the  poor-laws,  and  to  contrive  remedies  for  the  imperfections  and 
abuses  which  he  observes,  and  digests  these  remedies  into  acts 
of  parliament,  and  conducts  them,  by  argument  or  iiilkicnce, 
through  the  two  branches  of  the  legislature,  or  cominunicales  his 
ideas  to  those  who  are  more  likely  to  carry  them  into  effect,  de- 
serves well  of  a  class  of  the  community  so  numerous,  that  their 
happiness  makes  no  inconsiderable  part  of  the  whole.  The 
study  and  activity  thus  employed,  is  charity,  in  the  most  merito- 
rious sense  of  the  word, 

2.  The  care  of  the  poor  is  entrusted,  in  the  first  instance,  to 
overseers  and  contractors,  who  have  an  interest  in  oppo>ition  to 
that  of  the  poor,  inasmuch  as  whatever  they  allow  them  conies 
in  part  out  of  their  own  pocket.     For  this  reason,  the  law  has 


PROFESSIONAL  ASSISTANCE.  157 

deposited  with  Justices  of  the  peace  a  power  of  superintendence 
and  control  ;  and  the  judicious  interposition  of  this  power  is  a 
most  useful  exertion  of  charity,  and  ofttimes  within  the  ability 
of  those  who  have  no  other  way  of  serving  their  generation.  A 
country  gentleman  of  very  moderate  education,  and  who  has  little 
to  spare  from  his  fortune,  by  learning  so  much  of  the  poor-law 
as  is  to  be  found  in  Dr.  Burn's  Justice,  and  furnishing  himself 
with  a  knowledge  of  the  prices  of  labour  and  provision,  so  as  to 
be  able  to  estimate  the  exigences  of  a  family,  and  what  is  to  be 
expected  from  their  industry,  may,  in  this  way,  place  out  the 
,one  talent  committed  to  him,  to  great  account. 

3.  Of  all  private  professions,  that  of  medicine  puts  it  in  a 
man's  power  to  do  the  most  good  at  the  least  expense.  Health, 
which  is  precious  to  all,  is  to  the  poor  invaluable  ;  and  their 
complaints,  as  agues,  rheumatisms,  &c.  arc  often  such  as  yield 
to  medicine.  And,  with  respect  to  the  expense,  drugs  at  first 
hand  cost  little,  and  advice  nothing,  where  it  is  only  bestowed 
upon  those  who  could  not  afford  to  pay  for  it. 

4.  The  rights  of  the  poor  are  not  so  important  or  intricate,  as 
their  contentions  are  violent  and  ruinous.  A  lawyer  or  attorney, 
of  tolerable  knowledge  in  his  ju'ofession,  has  commonly  judgment 
enough  to  adjust  these  disputes,  with  all  the  effect,  and  without 
the  expense  of  a  law-suit  ;  and  he  may  be  said  to  give  a  poor 
man  twenty  pounds,  who  prevents  his  throwing  it  away  upon  law. 
A  legal  man,  whether  of  the  profession  or  not,  who,  together  with 
a  spirit  of  conciliation,  possesses  the  confidence  of  his  neighbor- 
hood, will  be  much  resorted  to  for  this  purpose,  especially  since 
the  grea.t  increase  of  costs  has  produced  a  general  dread  of  going 
to  law. 

Nor  is  this  line  of  beneficence  confined  to  arbitration.  Sea- 
sonable counsel,  coming  with  the  weight  which  the  reputation  of 
ihe  adviser  gives  it,  will  often  keep  or  extricate  (he  rash  and  un- 
informed out  of  great  difficulties. 

i  know  not  a  more  exalted  charity  than  that  which  presents  a 
ji.ij!eld  against  the  rapacity  or  persecution  of  a  tyrant. 


158  PECUNIARY  BOUNTY. 

5.  Betwixt  argument  and  authority  (I  mean  that  authority 
•R'hjch  flows  from  voluntary  respect,  and  attends  upon  sanctity 
and  disinterestedness  of  character)  some  things  may  be  done, 
amongst  the  lower  orders  of  mankind  towards  the  regulation  of 
their  conduct,  and  the  satisfaction  of  theii'  thoughts.  This  office 
belongs  to  the  ministers  of  religion  ;  or  rather,  whoever  under- 
takes it  becomes  a  minister  of  religion.  The  inferior  clergy,  who 
are  nearly  upon  a  level  with  the  common  sort  of  their  parishion- 
ers, and  who  on  that  account  gain  an  easier  admission  to  their 
society  and  confidence,  have  in  this  respect  more  in  their  power 
than  their  superiors  :  The  discreet  use  of  this  power  constitutes 
one  of  the  most  respectable  functions  of  human  nature. 


CHAPTER  V. 

CHARITY. 
PECUNIARY  BOUNTY. 

I.  The  ohligation  to  bestOii}  relief  upon  the  poor. 

II.  The  manner  of  bestonaing  it. 

III.  The  pretences  by  which  men  excuse  themselves  from  it. 

I.      The  obligation  to  bcstorc  relief  xip on  the  poor. 

THEY  who  rank  pity  amongst  the  original  impulses  of  our 
nature,  rightly  contend,  that  when  it  prompts  us  to  the  relief  of 
human  misery,  it  indicates  sufficiently  the  Divine  intention,  and 
our  duty.  Indeed,  the  same  conclusion  is  dcducible,  frou)  the 
existence  of  the  passion,  whatever  account  be  given  of  its  origin. 
Whether  it  be  an  instinct  or  a  habit,  it  is  in  fact  a  property  of 
our  nature,  which  God  appointed  ;  and  the  final  cause  for  whicb 
it  was  appointed  is,  to  afl'ord  to  the  miserable,  in  the  compassion 
of  their  fellow-creatures,  a  remedy  for  those  inequalities  and  dis- 


PECUNIARY  BOUNTY.  159 

tresses  which  God  foresaw  that  many  must  be  exposed  to  under 
every  general  rule  for  the  distribution  of  property. 

Beside  this,  the  poor  have  a  claim  founded  in  the  law  of  nature, 
v\'hich  may  be  thus  explained  : — AH  things  were  originally  com- 
mon. No  one  being  able  to  produce  a  charter  from  Heaven, 
had  any  better  title  to  a  particular  possession  than  his  next  neigh- 
bour. There  were  reasons  for  mankind's  agreeing  upon  a  sepa- 
ration of  this  common  fund  ;  and  God  for  these  reasons  is  pre- 
sumed to  have  ratified  it.  But  this  separation  was  made  and 
Gons?;nted  to,  upon  the  expectation  and  condition  thai  every  one 
should  have  left  a  sufficiency  for  his  subsistence,  or  the  means  of 
procuring  it  :  and  as  no  fixed  laws  for  the  regulation  of  property 
can  be  so  contrived,  as  to  provide  i'or  the  relief  of  every  case 
and  distress  which  may  arise,  these  cases  and  distresses,  when 
their  right  and  share  in  the  common  stock  was  given  up  or  taken 
from  them,  were  supposed  to  be  left  to  the  voluntary  bounty  of 
those  who  might  be  acquainted  with  the  exigences  of  their  situa- 
tion, and  in  the  way  of  affording  assistance.  And,  therefore, 
when  the  partition  of  property  is  rigidly  maintained  against  the 
claims  of  indigence  and  distress,  it  is  maintained  in  oppo-ition 
to  the  intention  of  those  who  made  it,  and  to  his,  who  is  the  Su- 
pi-eme  Proprietor  of  every  thing,  and  who  has  filled  the  world 
with  plenteousness,  for  the  sustentation  and  comfort  of  all  \vhom 
he  sends  into  it. 

The  Christian  Scriptures  are  more  copious  and  explicit  upon 
this  duty  than  almost  any  other.  The  description  which  Christ 
hath  left  us  of  the  proceedings  of  the  last  day,  establishes  the 
obligation  of  bounty  beyond  controversy  : — "  When  the  Son  of 
"  man  shall  come  in  his  glory,  and  all  the  holy  angels  with  him, 
"  then  shall  he  sit  upon  the  throne  of  his  glory,  and  before  him 
"  shall  be  gathered  all  nations  ;  and  he  shall  separate  them  one 
"  from  another.-— Then  shall  the  king  say  unto  them  on  his  right 
'"■  hand,  Come,  ye  blessed  of  my  Father,  inherit  the  kingdom 
"  prepared  for  you  from  the  foundation  of  the  world  :  For  I  was 
"  an  hungered,  and  ye  gave  me  meat :   I  was  thirsty,  and  ye  gave 


160  PECUiNIARY  BOUNTY. 

*'  me  drink  :  I  was  a  stranger,  and  ye  took  me  in  :  naked,  artu 
"  ye  clotlied  me  :  I  was  sick,  and  ye  visited  me  :  I  was  in  prison, 
"  and  ye  came  unto  me. — And  inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  to 
*'  one  of  the  least  of  these  my  brethren,  ye  have  done  it  unto 
*'  me."*  It  is  not  necessary  to  understand  this  passage  as  a 
literal  account  of  what  will  actually  pass  on  that  day.  Supposing 
it  only  a  scenical  description  of  the  rules  and  principles  by  which 
the  Supreme  Arbiter  of  our  destiny  will  regulate  his  decisions, 
it  conveys  the  same  lesson  to  us  ;  it  equally  demonstrates  of  how 
great  value  and  importance  these  duties  in  the  sigiit  of  God'are, 
and  what  stress  will  be  laid  upon  them.  The  apostles  also  des- 
cribe this  virtue  as  propitiating  the  Divine  favour  in  an  eminent 
degree.  And  these  recommendations  have  produced  their  effect. 
It  does  not  appear  that,  before  the  times  of  Christianity,  an  in- 
firmary, hospital,  or  public  charity  of  any  kind,  existed  in  the 
world  :  whereas  most  countries  in  Christendom  have  long  aboun- 
ded with  these  institutions.  To  which  may  be  added,  that  a 
spirit  of  private  liberality  seems  to  flourish  amidst  the  decay  of 
many  other  virtues  :  not  to  mention  the  legal  provision  for  the 
poor,  which  obtains  in  this  country,  and  which  was  unknown  and 
unthought  of  by  the  most  polished  nations  of  antiquity. 

St.  Paul  adds  upon  the  subject  an  excellent  direction,  and 
which  is  practicable  by  all  who  have  any  thing  to  give  : — "  Upon 
"  the  first  day  of  the  week  (or  any  other  stated  time)  let  every 
"  one  of  you  lay  by  in  store,  as  God  hath  prospered  him."  By 
which  I  understand  St.  Paul  to  reconmiend  what  is  the  very  thing 
^vanting  with  most  men,  the  being  charitable  upon  a  plan  ;  that 
is,  from  a  deliberate  comparison  of  our  fortunes  with  the  reason- 
able expenses  and  expectations  of  our  families,  to  compute  what 
we  can  spare,  and  lay  by  so  much  for  charitable  purposes  iir 
some  mode  or  other.  The  mode  will  be  a  consideration  after- 
wards. 

The  effect  which  Christianity  produced  upon  some  of  its  first 
converts,  was  such  as  might  be  looked  for  from  a  divine  religion 

*  Matthew,  XXV.  31. 


'*5*-f. 


•  PECUNIARY  BOUiNTY.  161 

corning  with  full  force  and  miraculous  evidence  upon  the  con- 
sciences of  mankind.  It  overwhelmed  all  worldly  considerations 
in  the  expectation  of  a  more  innportant  existence  : — "  And  the 
"  multitude  of  them  that  believed,  were  of  one  heart  and  of  one 
'"soul ;  neither  said  any  of  them  that  aught  of  the  things  which 
"  he  possessed  was  his  own  ;  but  they  had  all  things  in  common. 
"  — Neither  was  there  any  among  them  that  lacked  ;  for  as  many 
*'  as  were  possessors  of  lands  or  houses,  sold  them,  and  brought 
"  the  prices  of  the  things  that  were  sold,  and  laid  them  down 
"  at  the  Apostles'  feet,  and  distribution  was  made  unto  every 
*'  man  according  as  he  had  need.''     Acts,  iv.  32. 

Nevertheless,  this  community  of  goods,  however  it  manifested 
the  sincere  zeal  of  the  primitive  Christians,  is  no  precedent  for 
our  imitation.  It  was  confined  to  the  Church  at  Jerusalem  ;  con- 
tinued not  long  there  ;  was  never  enjoined  upon  any  ;  (Acts,  v.  4. ;) 
and,  although  it  might  suit  with  the  particular  circumstances  of  a 
small  and  select  society,  is  altogether  impracticable  in  a  large 
and  mixed  community. 

The  conduct  of  the  Apostles  upon  the  occasion  deserves  to  be 
noticed.  Tiieir  followers  laid  down  their  fortunes  at  their  feet  ; 
but  so  far  were  they  from  taking  advantage  of  this  unlimited  con- 
fidence, to  enrich  themselves,  or  to  establish  their  authority,  that 
they  soon  after  got  rid  of  this  business,  as  inconsistent  with  the 
main  object  of  their  mission,  and  transferred  the  custody  and 
management  of  the  public  fund  to  deacons  elected  to  that  office 
by  the  people  at  large.     Acts,  vi. 

II.  The  manner  of  bestowing  bounty ; — or  the  diff'erent  kinds 
of  charity. 

Every  question  between  the  different  kinds  of  charity,  sup- 
poses the  sum  bestowed  to  be  the  same. 

There  are  three  kinds  of  charity  which  prefer  a  claim  to  at- 
tention. 

The  first,  and  in  my  judgment  one  of  the  best,  is,  to  give  stated 
and  considerable  sums,  by  way  of  pension  or  annuity,  to  individ- 
uals or  families,  with  whose  behaviour  and  distress  we  ourselves 
21 


162  PECUNIARY  BOUNTY. 

are  acquainted.  When  I  speak  of  considerable  sums,  I  mean  onlj 
that  fivo  |iouiids,  or  any  oilier  sum,  given  at  once,  or  divided 
amongst  five  or  fewer  families,  will  do  more  good  than  the  same 
sum  distributed  amongst  a  greater  number  in  shillings  or  half- 
crowns  ;  and  that,  because  it  is  more  likely  to  be  properly  ap- 
plied by  the  persons  who  receive  it.  A  poor  fellow,  who  can 
find  no  better  use  for  a  shilling  than  to  drink  his  benefactor's 
health,  and  purchase  half  an  hour's  recreation  for  himself,  would 
hardly  break  into  a  guinea  for  any  such  purpose,  or  be  so  im- 
provident as  not  to  lay  it  by  for  an  occasion  of  importance,  for 
his  rent,  his  clothing,  fuel,  or  stock  of  winter's  provision.  It  is 
a  still  greater  recommendation  of  this  kind  of  charity,  that  pen- 
sions and  annuities,  which  are  paid  regularly,  and  can  be  ex- 
pected at  the  time,  are  the  only  way  by  which  we  can  prevent 
one  part  of  a  poor  man's  suCferings, — the  dread  of  want. 

2,  But  as  this  kind  of  charity  supposes  that  proper  objects 
©f  such  expensive  benefactions  fall  within  our  private  knowledge 
and  observation,  which  does  not  happen  to  all,  a  second  method 
of  doing  good,  which  is  in  every  one's  power  who  has  the  money 
to  spare,  is  by  subscription  to  public  charities.  Public  charities 
admit  of  this  argument  in  their  favour,  that  your  money  goes 
further  towards  attaining  the  end  for  which  it  is  given,  than  it 
can  do  by  any  private  and  separate  beneficence.  A  guinea,  for 
example,  contributed  to  an  infirmary,  becomes  the  means  of  pro- 
viding one  patient  at  least  with  a  phj'sician,  surgeon,  apothecary, 
with  medicine,  diet,  lodging,  and  suitable  attendance  ;  which  is 
not  the  tenth  part  of  what  the  same  assistance,  if  it  could  be  pro- 
cured at  all,  would  cost  to  a  sick  person  or  family  in  any  other 
situation. 

3.  The  last,  and,  compared  with  the  former,  the  lowest  ex- 
ertion of  benevolence,  is  in  the  relief  of  beggars.  Nevertheless. 
I  by  no  means  approve  the  indiscriminate  rejection  of  all  who 
implore  our  alms  in  this  way.  Some  may  perish  by  such  a  con- 
duct. Men  are  sometimes  overtaken  by  distress,  for  which  all 
other  relief  would  come  too  late.     Beside  which,  resolutions  of 


PECUNIARY  BOUNTY.  163 

this  kind  compel  us  to  offer  such  violence  to  our  humanity,  as 
may  go  near,  in  a  little  while,  to  suffocate  the  principle  itself, 
which  is  a  very  serious  consideration.  A  good  man,  if  he  do  not 
surrender  himself  to  his  feelings  without  reserve,  will  at  least 
lend  an  ear  to  importunities  which  come  accompanied  with  out- 
ward attestations  of  distress  ;  and  after  a  patient  hearing  of  the 
complaint,  will  direct  himself  by  the  circumstances  and  credi- 
bility of  the  account  that  he  receives. 

There  are  other  species  of  charity  well  contrived  to  make  the 
money  expended  go  far ;  such  as  keeping  down  the  price  of  fuel 
-or  provision,  in  case  of  a  monopoly  or  temporary  scarcity,  by 
purchasing  the  articles  at  the  best  market,  and  retailing  them  at 
prime  cost,  or  at  a  small  loss  ;  or  the  adding  a  bounty  to  par- 
ticular species  of  labour  v.hen  the  price  is  accidentally  depressed. 

The  proprietors  of  large  estates  have  it  in  their  power  to  faci- 
litate the  maintenance,  and  thereby  encourage  the  establishment 
of  families  (which  is  one  .of  the  noblest  purposes  to  which  the 
rich  at2d  great  can  convert  their  endeavours,)  by  building  cotta- 
ges, splitting  farms,  erecting  manufactures,  cultivating  wastes, 
embanking  the  sea,  draining  marshes,  and  other  expedients, 
which  the  situation  of  each  estate  points  out.  If  the  profits  of 
these  undertakings  do  not  re[)ay  the  expense,  let  the  authors  of 
them  place  the  difference  to  the  account  of  charity.  It  is  true 
of  almost  all  such  projects,  that  the  public  is  a  gainer  by  them, 
whatever  the  owner  be.  And  where  the  loss  can  be  spared, 
this  consideration  is  sufficient. 

It  is  become  a  question  of  some  importance,  under  what  cir- 
cumstances wx)rks  of  charity  ought  to  be  done  in  private,  and 
v/hen  they  may  be  made  public  without  detracting  from  the 
merit  of  the  action,  if,  indeed,  they  ever  may  ;  the  Author  of  our 
religion  having  delivered  a  rule  upon  this  suisject  which  seems 
to  enjoin  universal  secrecy  : — "  When  thou  doest  alms,  let  not 
"  thy  left  hand  know  what  thy  right  hand  doeth,  that  thy  alms 
"  may  be  in  secret  ;  and  thy  Father  which  seeth  in  secret,  hira- 
*'  self  sJ-iali  reward  thee  openly."      Matt.  vi.  3,  4.     From  tke 


164  PECUNIARY  BOUNTY. 

preamble  to  this  prohibition  1  think  it,  l)o\vever,  plain,  thst  our 
Saviour's  sole  design  was  to  forbid  ostentation,  and  all  publi.shing 
of  good  works  which  proceeds  from  that  motive  : — "  Take  heed 
"  that  ye  do  not  your  alms  before  men,  to  be  seen  of  them  ;  other- 
"  wise  ye  have  no  reward  of  your  Father  which  is  in  heaven  : 
"  Therefore,  when  thou  doest  thine  alms,  da  not  sound  a  trumpet 
*'  before  thee,  as  the  hypocrites  do,  in  the  synagogues  and  in  the 
"  streets,  that  they  may  have  glory  of  men.  Verily  I  say  unto 
"  thee,  they  have  their  reward,"  ver.  1,  2.  There  are  motives 
for  the  doing  our  alms  in  public  beside  those  of  ostentation,  with 
which,  therefore,  our  Saviour's  rule  has  no  concern  ;  such  as  to 
testify  our  approbation  of  some  particular  species  of  charity,  and 
to  recomend  it  to  others  ;  to  take  off  the  prejudice  which  the 
want,  or,  which  is  the  same  thing,  the  suppression  of  our  name 
in  the  list  of  contributors  might  excite  against  the  charity,  or 
against  ourselves.  And,  so  long  as  these  motives  are  free  from 
any  mixture  of  vanity,  they  are  in  no  danger  of  invading  our 
Saviour's  prohibition  :  they  rather  seem  to  comply  with  another 
direction  which  he  has  left  us  :  "  Let  your  light  so  shine  before 
"  men,  that  they  may  see  your  good  works,  and  glorify  your 
''  Father  which  is  in  heaven."  If  it  be  necessary  to  propose  a 
precise  distinction  upon  the  subject,  I  can  think  of  none  better 
than  the  following  :  When  our  bounty  is  beyond  our  fortune  or 
station,  that  is,  when  it  is  more  than  could  be  expected  from  us, 
our  charity  should  be  j)rivate,  if  privacy  be  practicable  ;  when 
it  is  not  more  than  may  be  expected,  it  may  be  public  :  for  we 
cannot  hope  to  influence  others  to  the  imitation  of  extraordinary 
generosity,  and  therefore  want,  in  the  former  case,  the  only  jus- 
tifiable reason  for  making  it  public. 

Having  thus  described  several  different  exertions  of  charity,  it 
may  not  be  improper  to  take  notice  of  a  species  of,  liberality, 
Tvhich  is  not  charity,  in  any  sense  of  the  word  :  I  mean  the  giv- 
ing of  entertainments  or  liquor,  for  the  sake  of  popularity  ;  or 
the  rewarding,  treating,  and  maintaining,  the  companions  of  our 
diversion*,   3«  hunters,  shootersj  fishers,  and  the  like.     I  do  not 


PECUNIARY  BOUNTY.  165 

say  that  this  is  criminal  ;  I  only  say  that  it  is  not  charity  ;  and 
that  we  are  not  to  suppose,  because  we  give,  and  give  to  the 
poor,  that  it  will  stand  in  the  place,  or  supercede  the  obliga- 
tion, of  more  meritorious  and  disinterested  bounty. 

III.  The  pretences  by  which  men  excuse  omr selves  from  giving 
to  the  poor. 

1.  "  That  they  have  nothing  to  spare,"  i.  e.  nothing  for  which 
they  have  not  some  other  use  ;  nothing  which  their  plan  of  ex- 
pense, together  with  the  savings  they  have  resolved  to  lay  by, 
will  not  exhaust  :  never  reflecting  whether  it  be  in  their  power, 
or  that  it  is  their  duty  to  retrench  their  expenses,  and  contract 
their  plan,  "  that  they  may  have  to  give  to  them  that  need  ;" 
or,  rather,  that  this  ought  to  have  been  part  of  their  plan  origi- 
nally. 

2.  "  That  they  have  families  of  their  o\yn,  ai>d  that  charity 
"  begins  at  home."  The  extent  of  this  plea  will  be  consider 
red,  when  we  come  to  explain  the  duty  of  parents. 

3.  "  That  charity  does  not  consist  in  giving  money,  but  in  be- 
^'  nevolence,  philanthropy,  love  to  all  mankind,  goodness  of 
*'  heart,"  &c.  Hear  St  James  :  "  If  a  brother  or  sister  be  na- 
"  ked,  and  destitute  of  daily  food,  and  one  of  you  say  unto  them, 
"  Depart  in  peace  ;  be  ye  warmed  and  filled  ;  notwithstanding 
"  ye  give  them  not  those  things  zvhich  are  needful  to  the  body  t 
f'what  doth  it  profit  ?"     James,  ii.  16,  16. 

4.  "  That  giving  to  the  poor  is  !)ot  mentioned  in  St.  Paul's 
^'  description  of  charity,  in  the  thirteenth  chapter  of  his  First 
"  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians."  This  is  not  a  description  of  cha^ 
rity,  but  of  good-nature  ;  and  it  is  not  necessary  that  every  duty 
be  mentioned  in  every  place. 

5.  ^'  That  they  pay  the  poor-rales."  They  might  as  well 
allege  that  they  j)ay  their  debts  :  for,  the  poor  have  the  same 
right  to  that  portion  of  a  man's  properly  which  the  laws  assign 
them,  that  the  man  Liniself  has  to  the  remainder. 

6.  "  That  they  employ  many  poor  persons  :" — for  their  own 
siikej  net  the  poor's  ; — otherwise  it  is  a  good  plea. 


liiv 


PECUNIARY  BOUNTY. 


7.  "  Thai  the  poor  do  not  suffer  so  much  os  \tc  imagine  ;  that 
"  education  and  habit  have  leconciled  tlieni  to  tlie  evils  of  their 
"  condition,  and  make  them  easy  under  it."  Habit  can  never 
reconcile  human  nature  to  the  extremities  of  cold,  hunger,  and 
•thirst,  any  more  than  it  can  reconcile  the  hand  to  the  touch  of  a 
red  hot  iron  :  besides,  the  question  is  not,  how  unhappy  any  one 
is,  but  how  much  more  happy  we  can  make  him. 

8.  "  That  these  people,  give  them  what  you  will,  williiever 
"  thank  you,  or  think  of  you  for  it."  In  the  first  place,  this  is 
not  true  :  in  the  second  place,  it  was  not  for  the  sake  of  their 
thanks  tliat  you  relieved  them. 

9.  "  That  we  are  so  liable  to  be  imposed  upon."  If  a  due 
inquiry  be  made,  our  motive  and  merit  is  the  same  :  beside  that, 
the  distress  is  generally  real,  whatever  has  been  the  cause  of  it. 

10.  "  That  they  should  apply  to  their  parishes."  This  is 
not  always  practicable  :  to  which  we  may  add,  that  there  are 
many  requisites  to  a  comfortable  subsistence,  which  parish  relief 
does  not  always  supply  ;  and  that  there  are  some  who  would 
suffer  almost  as  much  from  receiving  parish  relief  as  by  the  want 
of  it  ;  and,  lastly,  that  there  are  many  modes  of  charity  to  which 
this  answer  does  not  relate  at  all. 

11.  "  That  giving  money  encourages  idleness  and  vagrancy." 
This  is  true  only  of  injudicious  and  indiscriminate  generosiiy. 

12.  "  That  we  have  too  many  objects  of  charity  at  home,  to 
"  bestow  any  thing  upon  strangers  ;  or,  that  there  are  other 
"  charities,  which  are  mote  useful,  or  stand  in  greater  need." 
The  value  of  this  excuse  depends  entirely  upon  the  fact,  whe- 
ther we  actually  relieve  those  neighboring  objects,  and  contribute 
to  those  other  charities. 

Beside  all  these  excuses,  pride,  or  prudery,  or  delicacy,  or 
jove  of  ease,  keep  one  half  of  the  world  out  of  the  way  of  obser- 
ving what  the  other  half  suffer. 


RESENTMENT.— ANGER,  167 

CHAPTER  VI. 

RESENTMENT. 

RESENTMENT  may  be  d^(&tiftg^«sfeed  into  a7iger  and  re- 
venge. 

By  anger,  I  mean  the  pain  we  suffer  upon  the  receipt  of  an 
injury  or  affront,  with  the  usual  effects  of  that  pain  upon  ourselves. 

By  revenge,  the  inflicting  of  pain  upon  the  person  who  has  in- 
jured or  offended  us,  further  than  the  just  ends  of  punishment  or 
reparation  require. 

Anger  prompts  to  revenge  ;  but  it  is  possible  to  suspend  the 
effect,  when  we  cannot  altogether  quell  the  principle.  We  are 
bound  also  to  endeavour  to  qualify  and  correct  the  principle  it- 
self. So  that  our  duty  requires  two  different  applications  of  the 
mind  ;  and  for  that  reason,  anger  and  revenge  should  be  consid- 
ered separately. 


CHAPTER  Vn. 

ANGER. 

"  BE  ye  angry,  and  sin  not  ;*'  therefore  all  anger  is  not  sin- 
ful :  I  suppose,  because  some  degree  of  it,  and  upon  some  occa- 
sions, is  inevitable. 

It  becomes  sinful,  or  contradicts,  however,  the  rule  of  Scrip- 
ture, when  it  is  conceived  upon  slight  and  inadequate  provoca- 
cations,  and  when  it  continues  long. 

1.  When  it  is  conceived  upon  slight  provocations  :  for,  "  cha- 
"  rity  suffereth  long,  is  not  easily  provoked." — "  Let  every  man 
"  be  slow  to  anger."  Peace,  long-suffering,  gentleness,  meek- 
ness, are  enumerated  among  the  fruits  of  the  spirit.  Gal.  v.  22. 
and  ct)mpQse  the  true  Christian  temper,  as  to  this  article  of  dutr. 


168  ANGER. 

2.  When  it  continues  long  :  for,  "  let  not  the  sun  go  down 
"  upon  your  wrath." 

These  precepts,  and  all  reasoning  indeed  upon  the  subject, 
suppose  the  passion  of  anger  to  be  within  our  power  :  and  this 
power  consists  not  so  much  in  any  faculty  we  have  of  appeasing 
our  wrath  at  the  time,  (for,  we  are  passive  under  the  smart  which 
an  injury  or  affront  occasions,  and  all  we  can  then  do  is,  to  pre- 
vent its  breaking  out  into  action,)  as  in  so  mollifying  our  minds 
by  habits  of  just  reflection,  as  to  be  less  irritated  by  impressions 
of  injury,  and  to  be  sooner  pacified. 

Reflections  proper  for  this  purpose,  and  which  may  be  called 
the  sedatives  of  anger,  are  the  following  :  the  possibility  of  mis- 
taking the  motives  from  which  the  conduct  that  ofiends  us  pro- 
ceeded ;  how  often  ovr  off'ences  have  been  the  eSect  of  inadver- 
tency, when  they  were  mistaken  for  malice  ;  the  inducemertt 
which  prompted  our  adversary  to  act  as  he  did,  and  how  jiow- 
erfuUy  the  same  inducement  has,  at  one  time  or  other,  operated 
upon  ourselves  ;  that  he  is  suffering  perhaps  under  a  contrition, 
which  he  is  ashamed  or  wants  opportunity  to  confess  ;  and  how 
ungenerous  it  is  to  triumph  by  coldness  or  in?ult  over  a  spirit  al- 
ready humbled  in  secret  ;  that  the  returns  of  kindness  are  sweet, 
and  that  there  is  neither  honour,  nor  virtue,  nor  use  in  resisting 
them  : — for,  some  persons  think  themselves  bound  to  cherish 
and  keep  alive  their  indignation,  when  they  find  it  dying  away  of 
itself.  We  may  remember  that  others  have  their  passions,  their 
prejudices,  their  favourite  aims,  their  fears,  their  cautions,  their 
interests,  their  sudden  impulses,  their  varieties  of  apprehension, 
as  well  as  we  :  We  may  recollect  what  hath  sometimes  passed 
in  our  own  minds,  when  we  have  got  on  the  wrong  side  of  a  quar- 
rel, and  imagine  the  same  to  be  passing  in  our  adversary's  mind 
now  ;  when  we  became  sensible  of  our  misbehaviour,  what  pal- 
liations we  perceived  in  it,  and  expected  others  to  perceive  ; 
how  we  were  affected  by  the  kindness,  and  felt  the  superiority 
of  a  generous  reception  and  ready  forgiveness  ;  how  persecution 
revived  our  spirits  with  our  enmity,  and  seemed  to  justify  the 


REVENGE.  1G9 

conduct  in  ourselves  which  wc  before  blamed.  Add  to  this,  the 
indecency  of  extravagant  anger  ;  how  it  renders  us,  while  it 
lasts,  the  scorn  and  sport  of  all  about  us,  of  Avhich  it  leaves  us, 
when  it  ceases,  sensible  and  ashamed  ;  the  inconveniences,  and 
irretrievable  misconduct  into  which  our  irascibility  has  sometimes 
betrayed  us  ;  the  friendships  it  has  lost  us  ;  the  distresses  and 
embarrassments  in  which  we  have  been  involved  by  it  ;  and  the 
sore  repentance  Avhich,  on  one  account  or  other,  it  always  costs  us. 

But  the  reflection  calculated  above  all  others  to  allay  that 
haughtiness  of  temper  which  is  ever  finding  out  provocations,  and 
which  renders  anger  so  impetuous,  is  that  which  the  Gospel  pro- 
poses ;  namely,  that  we  ourselves  are,  or  shortly  shall  be,  sup- 
pliants for  mercy  and  pardon  at  the  judgment-seat  of  God.  Im- 
agine our  secret  sins  all  disclosed  and  brought  to  light  ;  imagine 
us  thus  humbled  and  exposed  ;  trembling  under  the  hand  of  God  ; 
casting  ourselves  on  his  compassion  ;  crying  out  for  mercy  ;  im- 
agine such  a  creature  to  talk  of  satisfaction  and  revenge  ;  refusing 
to  be  entreated,  disdaining  to  forgive  ;  extreme  to  mark  and  to 
resent  what  is  done  amiss  : — imagine,  I  say,  this,  and  you  can 
hardly  frame  to  yourself  an  instance  of  more  impious  and  unna- 
tural arrogance. 

The  point  is,  to  habituate  ourselves  to  these  reflections,  till 
they  rise  up  of  their  own  accord  when  they  are  wanted,  that  is, 
instantly  upon  the  receipt  of  an  injury  or  affront,  and  with  such 
force  and  colouring,  as  both  to  mitigate  the  paroxysms  of  our 
anger  at  the  time,  and  at  length  to  produce  an  alteration  in  the 
temper  and  disposition  itself.      ' 


CHAPTER  VIIL 

REVENGE. 

ALL  pain  occasioned  to  another  in  consequence  of  an  offence, 
or  injury  received  from  him,  further  than  what  is  calculated  to 

22 


]70  REVENGE. 

procure  reparation,  or  promote  the  Just  ends  of  punislimcnt,  is  so 
miicli  revenge. 

There  can  be  no  difficulty  in  knowing  wlicn  we  occasion  pain 
to  another  ;  nor  much  in  distinguishing  whether  we  do  so  with  a 
\iew  only  to  the  ends  of  punishment,  or  from  revenge  ;  for,  in 
the  one  case  we  proceed  with  rchictance,  in  the  other  with  plea- 
sure. 

It  is  h\gh]y  probable  from  the  light  of  nature,  that  a  passion, 
Tvhich  seeks  its  gratification  immediately  and  expressly  in  gi*  ing 
pain,  is  disagreeable  to  the  benevolent  will  and  counsels  of  the 
Creator.  Other  passions  and  pleasures  may,  and  often  do,  pro- 
duce pain  to  some  one  :  but  then  pain  is  not,  as  it  is  here,  the 
object  of  the  passion,  and  the  direct  cause  of  the  pleasure. 
This  probability  is  converted  into  certainty,  if  we  give  credit 
to  the  authority  which  dictated  the  several  passages  of  the 
Christian  Scriptures  that  condemn  revenge,  or,  what  is  the  same 
thing,  which  enjoin  forgiveness. 

We  will  set  down  the  principle  of  these  passages  ;  and  en- 
deavour to  collect  from  tliem,  what  conduct  upon  the  whole  is 
allowed  towards  an  enemy,  and  what  is  forbidden. 

"If ye  forgive  men  their  trespasses,  your  heavenly  Father 
"  will  also  forgive  you  :  but  if  ye  forgive  not  men  their  trcs- 
"  passess,  neither  will  your  Father  forgive  your  trespasses.*' — 
"  And  his  lord  was  wroth,  and  delivered  him  to  the  tormentors, 
"  till  he  sliould  pay  all  that  was  due  unto  him  :  so  likewise  shall 
*•  my  heavenly  Father  do  also  unto  you,  if  ye  from  your  heart;? 
■■'  forgive  not  every  one  his  brother  their  trespasses." — "  Put  on 
"  bowels  of  mercy,  kindness,  humbleness  of  mind,  meekness, 
"  long-sufFcring  ;  forbearing  one  another,  forgiving  one  another  ; 
"  if  any  man  have  a  quarrel  against  any,  even  as  Christ  forgave 
"  you,  so  also  do  ye." — "  Be  patient  towards  ail  men  ;  see  that 
"  none  render  evil  for  evil  unto  any  man." — "  Avenge  not  your- 
"  selves,  but  rather  give  place  unto  wrath  :  for  it  is  written, 
"  Vengeance  is  mine  ;  I  will  repay,  saith  the  Lord.  'JMierefore, 
"  if  thine" enemy  hunger,  feed  him  j  if  he  thirst,  give  him  drink  : 


REVENGE.  17] 

^'  for,  in  so  doing  thou  shalt  heap  coals  of  fire  on  his  liead.     Be 
''  not  overcome  of  evil,  hut  overcome  evil  with  good."* 

I  think  it  evident,  from  some  of  these  passages  taken  sepa- 
rately, and  still  more  so  from  all  of  them  together,  that  revenge, 
as  described  in  the  beginning  of  this  chapter,  is  forbidden  in  ev- 
ery degree,  under  all  forms,  and  upon  any  occasion.  We  are 
likewise  forbidden  to  refuse  to  an  enemy  even  the  most  imperfect 
right  ;  "  if  he  hunger,  feed  him  ;  if  he  thirst,  give  him  drink  ;"t 
which  are  examples  of  imperfect  rights.  If  one  who  has  olfend- 
ed  us,  solicit  from  us  a  vote  to  whicii  his  qualifications  entitle 
him,  we  may  not  refuse  it  from  motives  of  resentment,  or  the  re- 
membrance of  what  we  have  suffered  at  his  hands.  His  right, 
and  our  obligation  which  follows  the  right,  is  not  altered  by  his 
enmity  to  us,  or  ours  to  him. 

On  the  other  hand,  I  do  not  conceive,  that  these  prohibitions 
xvere  intended  to  interfere  with  the  punishment  or  prosecution  of 
public  offenders.  In  the  eigUteenth  chapter  of  St.  Matthew,  our 
Saviour  tells  his  disciples  ;  "  If  thy  brother  who  has  trespassed 
"  against  thee  neglect  to  hear  the  church,  let  him  be  unto  thee 
.t. ""  as  an  heathen  man,  and  a  publican."  Immediately  after  this, 
when  St.  Peter  asked  him,  "  How  oft  shall  my  brother  sin  against 
*'•  me,  and  I  forgive  him  ?  till  seven  times  ?"  Christ  replied,  "I 
"  say  not  unto  thee  until  seven  times,  but  until  seventy  times  sey— 
"  en  ;"  that  is,  as  often  as  he  repeats  the  offence.  From  these 
\\\o  passages  compared  together,  we  are  authorized  to  conclude, 
that  the  forgiveness  of  an  enemy  is  not  inconsistent  with  the  pro- 
ceeding against  him  as  a  public  offender  ;  and  that  the  discipline 
■established  in  religious  or  civil  societies,  for  the  restraint  or  pun- 
•ishment  of  criminals,  ought  to  be  upheld. 

=1-  Matt.  vi.  14,  15 ;  xviii.  34,  35.  Col.  iii.  12, 13.  1  Tfiess.  v.  14,  15- 
SRom.xii.  19,  20,  21. 

t  See  also  Exodus,  xxiii.  4.  "If  thou  meet  thine  enemy's  ox,  or  his 
"  ass,  going  astray,  tliou  slialt  surely  bring  it  back  to  him  again  :  if  tliou, 
'•  see  the  a?s  of  him  that  liateth  thee  lying  under  his  burthen,  and  would^ii 
"forbear  to  help  him,  thou  shalt  purely  help  with  hinv," 


172  REVENGE. 

As  the  magistrate  is  not  tied  down  by  these  prohibitions  from 
the  execution  of  his  ofllcc,  so  neither  is  the  prosecutor  :  for,  the 
oflice  of  the  prosecutor  is  as  necessary  as  that  of  the  magistrate. 
Nor,  by  parity  of  reason,  are  private  persons  withheld  from 
the  correction  of  vice,  when  it  is  in  their  power  to  exercise  it  ; 
provided  they  be  assured  that  it  is  the  guilt  which  provokes 
them,  and  not  the  injury  ;  and  that  their  motives  are  pure  from 
all  mixture  and  every  particle  of  that  spirit  which  delights  and 
triumphs  in  the  i)ain  and  humiliation  of  an  adversary. 

Thus,  it  is  no  breach  of  Christian  charity  to  withdraw  our 
company  or  civility,  when  the  same  tends  to  discountenance  any 
vicious  practice.  This  is  one  branch  of  that  extrajudicial  dis- 
cipline which  supplies  the  defects  and  the  remissness  of  law  ; 
and  is  expressly  autliorized  by  St.  Paul :  (1  Cor.  v.  11  :)  "But 
*'  now  I  have  written  unto  you  not  to  keep  company,  if  any  man, 
*'  that  is  called  a  brother,  be  a  fornicator,  or  covetous,  or  an 
"  idolater,  or  a  railer,  or  a  drunkard,  or  an  extortioner  ;  with 
"  such  an  one,  no  not  to  eat."  The  use  of  this  association  againjil 
vice  continues  to  be  experienced  in  one  remarkable  instance, 
and  might  be  extended  w  ith  good  effect  to  others.  The  confed- 
eracy amongst  women  of  character,  to  exclude  from  their  society 
kept-mistresses  and  prostitutes,  contributes  more  perhaps  to  dis- 
courage that  condition  of  life,  and  prevents  greater. numbers  from 
entering  into  it,  than  all  the  considerations  of  prudence  and  reli- 
gion put  together. 

We  arc  likewise  allowed  to  practise  so  much  caution  as  nottp 
put  ourselves  in  the  way  of  injury,  or  invite  the  repetition  of  it. 
If  a  servant  or  tradesman  has  cheated  us,  we  are  not  bound  to 
trust  him  again  :  for,  this  is  to  encourage  him  in  his  dishonest 
practices,  which  is  doing  him  much  harm. 

Where  a  benefit  can  be  conferred  only  upon  one  or  few,  and 
the  choice  of  the  person  upon  whom  it  is  confeired  is  a  proper 
object  of  favour,  we  are  at  liberty  to  prefer  those  who  have  not 
offended  us  to  those  who  have  ;  the  contrary  being  no  where  re- 
quired. 


DUELLING.  173 

Chiisl,  wliu,  as  hath  been  well  demonstrated,*  estimated  vir- 
tues by  their  solid  utility,  and  not  by  their  fashion  or  popularity, 
prefers  this  of  the  forgiveness  of  injuries  to  every  other.  He  en- 
joins it  oftener  ;  with  more  earnestness  ;  under  a  greater  variety 
of  forms  ;  and  with  this  weighty  and  peculiar  circumstance,  that 
the  forgiveness  of  others  is  the  condition  upon  which  alone  we 
are  to  expect,  or  even  ask,  from  God,  forgiveness  for  ourselves. 
And  this  preference  is  justified  by  the  superior  importance  of 
the  virtue  itself.  The  feuds  and  animosities  in  families  and  be- 
tween neighbours,  which  disturb  the  intercourse  of  buman  life, 
and  collectively  compose  half  the  misery  of  it,  have  their  foun- 
dation in  the  want  of  a  forgiving  temper  ;  and  can  never  cease, 
but  by  the  exercise  of  this  virtue,  on  one  side,  or  on  both. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

DUELLING. 

DUELLING  as  a  punishment  is  absurd  ;  because  it  is  an 
equal  chance,  whether  the  punishment  fall  upon  the  offender,  or 
the  person  offended.  Nor  is  it  much  better  as  a  reparation  ;  it 
being  difficult  to  explain  what  the  satisfaction  consists  in,  or  how 
it  tends  to  undo  the  injury,  or  to  afford  a  compensation  for  the 
damage  already  sustained. 

The  truth  is,  it  is  not  considered  as  either.  A  law  of  honour 
having  annexed  the  imputation  of  cowardice  to  patience  under 
an  affront,  challenges  are  given  and  accepted  with  no  other  de- 
sign than  to  prevent  or  wipe  off  this  suspicion  ;  without  malice 
against  the  adversary,  generally  without  a  wish  to  destroy  him, 
or  any  concern  but  to  preserve  the  duellist's  ov/n  reputation  and 
reception  in  the  world. 

*  See  a  View  of  the  Inleraal  Eyideace  of  the  Christian  Relisrion. 


1 74  DUELLING. 

The  unreasonableness  of  lliis  rule  of  mniiners  is  one  considera- 
tion ;  the  duty  and  conduct  of  individuals,  nliile  such  a  rule  ex- 
ists, is  another. 

As  to  uhich  the  proper  and  single  question  is  this  ;  ^vhethrr  a 
regard  tor  our  own  reputation  is,  or  is  not,  sufiicient  to  justify  the 
t.aking  away  the  life  of  another  ? 

Murder  is  forbidden  ;  and  wherever  human  life  is  deliberately 
taken  away,  otherwise  than  by  public  authority,  there  is  murder. 
The  value  and  security  of  human  life  make  this  rule  necessary  5 
for  I  do  not  see  what  other  idea  or  definition  of  murder  can  be 
admitted,  which  will  not  let  in  so  much  private  violence,  as  to 
render  society  a  scene  of  peril  and  bloodshed. 

If  unauthorized  laws  of  honour  be  allowed  to  create  exceptions 
to  divine  prohibitions,  there  is  an  end  of  all  morality,  as  founded 
in  the  will  of  the  Deity  ;  and  the  obligation  of  every  duty  may 
at  one  time  or  other  be  discharged  by  the  caprice  and  fluctua- 
tions of  fashion. 

"  But  a  sense  of  shame  is  so  much  torture  ;  and  no  relief  pre- 
"  sents  itself  otherwise  than  by  an  attempt  upon  the  life  of  our 
"  adversary."  What  then  ?  The  distress  which  men  suffer  by 
the  want  of  money  is  oftentimes  extreme,  and  noTesource  can  be 
discovered  but  that  of  removing  a  life  which  stands  between  the 
-distressed  person  and  his  inheritance.  The  motive  in  this  case 
is  as  urgent,  and  the  means  much  the  same,  as  in  the  former  : 
3''et  this  case  finds  no  advocates. 

Take  away  the  circumstance  of  the  duellist's  exposing  his  own 
life,  and  it  becomes  assassination  ;  add  this  circumstance,  and 
what  difTerence  does  it  make  ?  None  but  this,  that  fewer  per- 
haps will  imitate  the  example,  and  human  Jife  will  be  somewhat 
more  safe,  w'hen  it  cannot  be  attacked  without  equal  danger  to 
the  aggressor's  own.  Experience  however  proves,  that  there  is 
fortituele  enough  in  most  men  to  undertake  this  hazard  ;  and 
were  it  otherwise,  the  defence,  at  best,  would  be  only  that  which 
a  highwayman  or  housebreaker  might  plead,  whose  attempt  had 
been  so  daring  and  des^israte,  that  few  were  likely  to  lepeat  the 
same. 


DUELLING.  175 

Iti  expostulating  with  a  duellist,  1  all  along  suppose  his  adver- 
sary to  fall.  Which  supposition  I  am  at  liberty  to  make,  be- 
cause, if  he  have  no  right  to  kill  his  adversay,  he  has  none  to 
attempt  it. 

In  return,  I  forbear  from  applying  to  the  case  of  duelling  the 
Christian  i)rinciple  of  the  forgiveness  of  injuries  ;  because  it  is 
possible  to  suppose  the  injury  to  be  forgiven,  and  the  duellist  to 
act  entirely  from  a  concern  for  his  OAvn  reputation  :  where  this 
is  not  tlie  case,  the  guilt  of  duelling  is  manifest,  and  greater. 

In  this  view  it  seems  unnece'^sary  to  distinguish  between  hiiu 
who  gives,  and  him  who  accepts  a  challenge  :  for  they  incur  an 
equal  hazard  of  destroying  life  ;  and  both  act  upon  the  same 
persuasion,  that  what  they  do  is  necessary,  in  order  to  recover 
or  preserve  the  good  opinion  of  the  world. 

Public  opinion  is  not  easily  controlled  by  civil  institutions  ; 
for  which  reason  I  question,  whether  any  regulations  can  be  con- 
trived, of  sufficient  force  to  suppress  or  change  the  rule  of  hon- 
our, which  stigmatizes  all  scruples  about  duelling  with  the  re- 
proach of  cowardice. 

The  inadequate  redress  which  the  law  of  the  land  affords  for 
those  injuries  which  chiefly  atFect  a  man  in  his  sensibility  and 
reputation,  tempts  many  to  redress  themselves.  Prosecutions 
for  such  offences,  hy  the  trifling  damages  that  are  recovered, 
serve  only  to  make  the  sufl''ercr  more  ridiculous. — This  ousht  to 
be  remedied. 

For  the  army,  where  the  point  of  honour  is  cultivated  with  ex- 
quisite attention  and  refinement,  I  would  establish  a  Court  of 
Honour,  with  a  power  of  awarding  those  submissions  and  ac- 
knowledgments, which  it  is  generally  the  object  of  a  challenge  to 
obtain  ;  and  it  might  grow  into  a  fashion,  v."ith  persons  of  rank  of 
all  professions,  to  refer  their  quarrels  to  the  same  tribunal. 

Duelling,  as  the  law  now  stands,  can  seldom  be  overtaken  by 
legal  punishment.  The  challenge,  appointment,  and  other  pre- 
vious cirewmstances,  which  indicate  the  intention  with  u'hich  the 
combatants  met,  being  suppressed,  nothing  appears  to  a  court  ok 


1 7G  LITFGATtON. 

justice,  but  the  actual  rencounter  ;  and  if  a  person  bo  slain  when 
actually  fighting  with  his  adversary,  the  hvw  deems  his  death  no- 
thing more  than  man-slaughter. 


CHAPTER  X. 

LITIGATION. 

"  IF  it  be  possible,  live  peaceably  with  all  men  ;"  which  pre- 
cept contains  an  indirect  confession  that  this  is  not  always  possible. 

The  instances*  in  the  fifth  chapter  of  St.  Matthew  are  rather 
to  be  understood  as  proverbial  methods  of  describing  the  gene- 
ral duties  of  forgiveness  and  benevolence,  and  of  the  temper  we 
ought  to  aim  at  acquiring,  than  as  directions  to  be  specifically 
observed  ;  or  of  themselves  of  any  great  importance  to  be  ob- 
served. The  first  of  these  is,  "  If  thine  enemy  smite  thee  on 
"  thy  right  cheek,  turn  to  him  the  other  also  :"  j-et,  when  one 
of  the  officers  struck  Jesus  with  the  palm  of  his  hand,  we  find 
Jesus  rebuking  him  for  the  outrage  with  becoming  indignation  ; 
"  If  I  have  spoken  evil,  bear  witness  of  the  evil  ;  but  if  well,  why 
"  smitest  thou  me  ?"  John,  xviii.  22.  It  may  be  observed,  like- 
wise, that  all  the  examples  are  drawn  from  instances  of  small  and 
tolerable  injuries.  A  rule  which  forbade  all  opposition  to  injury, 
or  defence  against  it,  could  have  no  other  etVect,  than  to  put  the 
good  in  subjection  to  the  bad,  and  deliver  one  half  of  mankind  to 
the  depredation  of  tiie  other  half;  which  must  be  the  case,  so 
long  as  some  considered  themselves  as  bound  by  such  a  rule, 
whilst  others  despised  it.  St.  Paul,  though  no  one  inculcated 
forgiveness  and  forbearance  with  a  deepersen.se  of  the  value  and 

*  "  Whosoever  shall  smite  thee  on  thy  right  cheek,  turn  to  him  the 
"  other  also  :  and  if  any  man  will  sue  thee  at  the  law,  and  take  away  thy 
"  coat,  let  him  have  thy  cloak  also  :  and  whosoever  shall  compel  thee  to 
"  go  a  mile,  go  with  him  twain." 


I 


LITIGATION.  ~  177 

©bligation  of  these  virtues,  did  not  interpret  either  of  them  to  re- 
'{uire  an  unresisting  submission  to  every  coiitumelj,  or  a  neglect 
of  the  means  of  safety  and  self-defence.  He  took  refuge  in  the 
laws  of  his  country,  and  in  the  privileges  of  a  Roman  citizen, 
from  the  conspiracy  of  the  Jews,  Acts,  xx.v.  11  ;  and  from  the 
clandestine  violence  of  the  chief,  captain.  Acts,  xxii.  25.  And 
yet  this  is  the  same  Apostle  who  reproved  the  litigousness  of  his 
Corintliian  converts  v.'ith  so  much  severity.  "  Now,  therefore, 
'"  there  is  utterly  a  fault  among  you,  because  ye  go  to  law  one 
"  with  another.  Why  do  ye  not  rather  take  wrong  ?  .why  do  yc 
"  not  rather  suffer  yourselves  to  be  defrauded  ?" 

On  the  one  hand,  therefore,  Christianity  exclude^  all  vindic- 
tive motives,  and  all  frivolous  causes  of  prosecution  ;  so  that 
where  the  injury  is  small,  where  no  good  purpose  of  public  ex- 
ample is  answered,  where  forbearance  is  not  likely  to  invite  a 
repetition  of  the  injury,  or  where  the  expense  of  an  action  be- 
comes a  punishment  too  severe  for  the  oflxince,  there  the  Chris- 
tian is  vvithholden  by  the  authority  of  liis  religion  irom  going  to 
law. 

On  the  other  hand,  a  law-suit  is  inconsistent  with  no  rule  of 
the  Gospel,  when  it  is  instituted, 

1.  For  the  establishing  of  some  important  right. 

2.  For  the  procuring  a  compensation  for  some  considerable 
damage. 

3.  For  the  preventing  of  future  injury. 

But,  since  it  is  supposed  to  be  undertaken  simply  with  a  view 
to  the  ends  of  justice  and  safety,  the  prosecutor  of  the  action  is 
bound  to  confine  himself  to  the  cheapest  process  that  will  accom- 
plish these  ends,  as  well  as  to  consent  to  any  peaceable  expedi- 
ent for  the  same  purpose  ;  as  a  reference,  in  which  the  arbitra- 
tors can  do,  what  the  law  cannot,  divide  the  damage,  when  the 
fault  is  mutual  ;  or  a  compounding  of  the  dispute,  by  accepting 
a  compensation  in  the  gross,  without  entering  into  articles  and 
items,  which  it  is  often  very  difficult  to  adjust  separately. 


178  LITIGATION. 

As  to  the  rest,  the  duty  of  the  contending  parties  may  be  ex- 
pressed in  the  following  directions  : 

Not  to  prolong  a  suit  by  appeals  against  your  own  conviction. 

Not  to  undertake  or  defend  a  suit  against  a  poor  adversary, 
or  render  it  more  dilatory  or  expensive  than  necessary,  with  the 
hope  of  intimidating  or  wearying  him  out  by  the  expense. 

Not  to  influence  evidence  by  authority  or  expectation. 

Nor  to  stifle  any  in  your  possession,  although  it  make  against 
you. 

Hitherto  we  have  treated  of  civil  actions.  In  criminal  prose- 
cutions, the  private  injury  should  be  forgotten,  and  the  prosecu- 
tor proceed  with  the  same  temper,  and  upon  the  same  motives, 
as  the  magistrate  ;  the  one  being  a  necessary  minister  of  justice 
as  well  as  the  other,  and  both  bound  to  direct  their  conduct  by 
a  dispassionate  care  of  the  public  welfare. 

In  whatever  degree  the  punishment  of  an  offender  is  conducive, 
or  his  escape  dangerous,  to  the  interest  of  the  community,  in  the 
same  degree  is  the  party  against  whom  the  crime  was  committed 
bound  to  prosecute,  because  such  prosecutions  must  in  their  na- 
ture originate  from  the  sufferer. 

Therefore,  great  public  crimes,  as  robberies,  forgeries,  ^'c, 
ought  not  to  be  spared  from  an  apprehension  of  trouble  or  ex- 
pense in  carrying  on  the  prosecution,  or  from  false  shame  or  mis- 
placed compassion. 

There  are  many  offences,  such  as  nuisances,  neglect  of  public 
roads,  forestalling,  engrossing,  smuggling,  Sabbath-breaking,  pro- 
faneness,  drunkenness,  prostitution,  the  keeping  of  lewd  or  dis- 
orderly houses,  the  writing,  publishing,  or  exposing  to  sale  lasci- 
vious books  or  prints,  with  some  others,  the  prosecution  of  which, 
being  of  equal  concern  to  the  whole  neighborhood,  cannot  be 
charged  as  a  peculiar  obligation  upon  any. 

Nevertheless,  there  is  great  merit  in  the  person  wh(*  undertakes 
s\ich  prosecutions  upon  proper  motives  ;  which  aniounts  to  the 
same  thing. 

The  character  of  an  ivformer  is  in  this  country  undeservedly 
odious.     But  where  any  public  advantage  is  likely  to  be  attained 


GRATITUDE.  17^ 

by  informations,  or  other  activity  in  promoting  the  execution  of 
the  laws,  a  good  man  will  despise  a  prejudice  founded  in  no  just 
reason,  or  will  acquit  himself  of  the  impuation  of  interested  de- 
signs by  giving  away  his  share  of  the  penalty. 

On  the  other  hand,  prosecutions  for  the  sake  of  the  reward,  or 
for  the  gratification  of  private  enmity,  where  the  offence  produces 
no  public  mischief,  or  where  it  arises  from  ignorance  or  inadver- 
tency, are  reprobated  under  the  general  descri])tion  of  applying 
u  rule  of  law  to  a  purpose  for  which  it  was  not  intended.  Under 
which  description  may  be  ranked  an  officious  revival  of  the  laws 
against  Popish  priests  and  dissenting  teachers. 


CHAPTER  XL 

GRATITUDE. 

EXAMPLES  of  ingratitude  check  and  discourage  voluntaiy 
'beneficence  ;  and  in  this  the  mischief  of  ingratitude  consists. 
Nor  is  the  mischief  small  ;  for  after  all  is  done  that  can  be  done, 
by  prescribing  general  rules  of  justice,  and  enforcing  the  obser- 
vation of  them  by  penalties  or  compulsion,  much  must  be  left  to 
those  offices  of  kindness  which  men  remain  at  liberty  to  exert  or 
withhold.  Now,  not  only  the  choice  of  the  objects,  but  the 
quantity,  and  even  the  existence,  of  this  sort  of  kindness  in  the 
world,  depends  in  a  great  measure  unon  the  return  which  it  re- 
ceives ;  and  this  is  a  consideration  of  public  importance. 

A  second  reason  for  cultivating  a  grateful  temper  in  ourselves, 
is  the  following  :  the  same  principle  which  is  touched  with  the 
kindness  of  a  human  benefactor,  is  capable  of  being  affected  by 
the  divine  goodness,  and  of  becoming,  under  the  influence  of  that 
affection,  a  source  of  the  purest  and  most  exalted  virtue.  The 
•iovc  of  God  is  the  sublimest  gratitude.  It  is  a  mistake,  there- 
iore,  to  imagine,   that  this  virtue  is  omitted  in  the  Christian 


180  SLANDER. 

Scriptures  ;  for  every  precept  which  commands  us,  "  to  love 
"  God,  because  he  first  loved  us,"  presu|)poses  the  principle  of 
gratitude,  and  directs  it  to  its  proper  object. 

It  is  impossible  to  particularize  the  several  expressions  of  grat- 
itude, which  vary  with  the  character  and  situation  of  the  bene- 
factor, and  with  the  opportunities  of  the  person  obliged  ;  for  this 
variety  admits  of  no  bounds. 

It  may  be  observed,  however,  that  gratitude  can  never  oblige 
a  man  to  do  what  is  wrong,  and  what  by  consequence  he  is  pre- 
%'iously  obliged  not  to  do.  It  is  no  ingratitude  to  refuse  to  do, 
what  we  cannot  reconcile  to  any  apprehensions  of  our  duty  ;  but 
it  is  ingratitude  and  hypocrisy  .together,  to  pretend  this  reason, 
when  it  is  not  the  real  one  ;  and,the  frequency  of  such  pretences 
has  brought  this  apology  for  non-compliance  with  the  will  of  a 
benefactor  into  unmerited  disgrace. 

It  has  long  been  accounted  a  violation  of  delicacy  and  gene- 
rosity to  upbraid  men  with  the  favours  they  have  received  ;  but 
it  argues  a  total  destitution  of  both  these  qualities,  as  well  as  of 
moral  probity,  to  take  advantage  of  that  ascendency,  which  the 
conferring  of  benefits  justly  creates,  to  draw  or  drive  those  whom 
wc  have  obliged  into  mean  or  dishonest  compliances. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

SLANDER. 

.SPEAKING  is  acting,  both  in  philosophical  strictness,  anil  a.« 
to  all  moral  purposes  :  for,  if  the  mischief  and  motive  of  our  con- 
duct be  the  same,  tlie  means  we  use  make  no  difference. 

And  this  is  in  effect  what  our  Saviour  declares,  Matt.  xii.  37. 
— "  By  thy  words  thou  shalt  be  justified,  and  by  thy  words 
thou  shalt  be  condemned  :"  By  thy  words,  as  well,  that  is  as  by 
thy  actions  ;  the  one  shall  be  taken  into  the  account  as  well  a.s 


SLANDER.  181 

?4ie  other,  lor  they  both  possess  the  same  property  of  volunta- 
rily producing  good  or  evil. 

Slander  may  be  distinguished  into  two  kinds,  malicious  slander, 
and  inconsiderate  slander. 

Malicious  slander,  is  the  relating  of  either  truth  or  falsehood, 
with  a  conscious  purpose  of  creating  misery. 

I  acknowledge  that  the  truth  or  falsehood  of  what  is  related, 
varies  the  degree  of  guilt  considerably  ;  and  that  slander,  in  the 
ordinary  acceptation  of  the  term,  signifies  the  circulation  of  mis- 
chievous falsehoods  ;  but  truth  may  be  made  instrumental  to  the 
success  of  malicious  designs  as  well  as  falsehood  ;  and  if  the  end 
be  bad,  the  means  cannot  be  innocent. 

I  think  the  idea  of  slander  ought  to  be  confined  to  the  produc- 
tion of  gratuitous  mischief.  When  we  have  an  end  or  interest 
of  our  own  to  serve,  if  we  attempt  to  compass  it  by  falsehood,  it 
is  fraud;  if  by  a  publication  of  the  truth,  it  is  not,  without  some 
additional  circumstance  of  breach  of  promise,  betraying  of  con- 
fidence, or  the  like,  to  be  deemed  criminal. 

Sometimes  the  pain  is  intended  for  the  person  to  whom  we 
are  speaking  ;  at  other  times,  an  enmity  is  to  be  gratified  by  the 
prejudice  or  disquiet  of  a  third  person.  To  infuse  suspicions,  to 
kindle  or  continue  disputes,  to  avert  the  favour  and  esteem  of 
benefactors  from  their  dependants,  to  render  some  one  we  dislike 
contemptible  or  obnoxious  in  the  public  opinion,  are  all  offices 
of  slander  ;  of  which  the  guilt  must  be  measured  by  the  intensi- 
ty and  extent  of  the  misery  produced. 

The  disguises  under  which  slander  is  conveyed,  whether  in  a 
whisper,  with  injunctions  of  secrecy,  by  way  of  caution,  or  with 
affected  reluctance,  are  all  so  many  aggravations  of  the  offence, 
as  they  manifest  a  more  concerted  and  deliberate  design. 

Inconsiderate  slander  is  a  different  offence,  aithough  the  same 
mischief  actually  follow,  and  although  it  niighf  have  been  fore- 
seen. The  not  being  conscious  of  that  mischievous  design, 
which  we  have  hitherto  attributed  to  the  slanderer,  makes  the 
4ifterence. 


182  SLANDER. 

The  guilt  here  consists  in  the  want  of  that  regard  to  the  com- 
sequences  of  our  conduct,  which  a  just  affection  for  human  hap- 
piness, and  concern  for  our  duty,  would  not  have  failed  to  have 
produced  in  us.  And  it  is  no  answer  to  this  crimination  to  say, 
that  we  entertained  no  evil  design.  A  servant  may  be  a  very 
bad  servant,  and  yet  seldom  or  never  design  to  act  in  opposition 
to  his  master's  interest  or  will  ;  and  his  master  may  justly  pun- 
ish such  servant  for  a  thoughtlessness  and  neglect  nearly  as  pre- 
judicial as  deliberate  disobedience.  1  accuse  you  not,  he  may 
say,  of  an  express  intention  to  hurt  me  ;  but  had  not  the  fear  of 
my  displeasure,  the  care  of  my  interest,  and  indeed  all  the  qual- 
ities which  constitute  the  merit  of  a  good  servant,  been  wanting 
in  you,  they  would  not  only  have  excluc^ed  every  direct  purpose 
of  giving  mc  uneasiness,  but  have  been  so  far  present  to  your 
thoughts,  as  to  have  checked  that  unguarded  licentiousness,  by 
which  I  have  suffered  so  much,  and  inspired  you  in  its  place 
with  an  habitual  solicitude  about  the  effects  and  tendency  of  what 
you  did  or  said.  This  very  much  resembles  the  case  of  all  sins 
of  inconsideration  ;  and,  amongst  the  formemost  of  these,  that  of 
inconsiderate  slander. 

Information  communicated  for  the  real  purpose  of  warning,  or 
cautioning,  is  not  slander. 

Indiscriminate  praise  is  the  opposite  of  slander,  but  it  is  the 
opposite  extreme  ;  and,  however  it  may  affect  to  be  thought  ex- 
cess of  candour,  is  commonly  the  production  of  a  frivolous  under- 
standing, and  sometimes  of  a  settled  contempt  of  all  moral  dis- 
tinctions. 


BOOK  III. 


PART  III. 

OF  RELATIVE  DUTIES   WHICH   RESULT  FROM  THE  CON- 
STITUTION OF  THE  SEXES. 

THE  constitution  of  the  sexes  is  the  foundation  of  marriage. 

Collateral  to  the  subject  of  marriage,  are  fornication,  seduc- 
tion, adultery,  incest,  polygamy,  divorce. 

Consequential  to  marriage,  is  the  relation  and  reciprocal  duty 
of  parent  and  child. 

We  will  treat  of  these  subjects  in  the  following  order  :  Jirst, 
Of  the  public  use  of  marriage  institutions  ;  secondly.  Of  the  sub- 
jects collateral  to  marriage,  in  the  order  in  which  we  have  here 
proposed  them  ;  thirdly.  Of  marriage  itself  ;  and,  lastly,  Of  the 
relation  and  reciprocal  duties  of  parents  and  children. 


CHAPTER  I. 

OF  THE  PUBLIC  USE  OF  MARRIAGE  INSTITUTIONS. 

THE  public  use  of  marriage  institutions  consists  in  their  pro- 
moting 4j(P;he  following  beneficial  effects  : 

1.  The  private  comfort  of  individuals,  especially  of  the  female 
Sex.  It  may  be  true,  that  all  are  not  interested  in  this  reason  ; 
nevertheless,  it  is  a  reason  to  all  for  abstaining  from  any  conduct 
^hich  tends  in  its  general  consequence  to  obstruct  marriage  :  for. 


184  FORNICATION. 

whatever  promotes  the  happiness  of  the  majority,  is  binding  up- 
on the  whole. 

2.  The  production  of  the  greatest  number  of  healthy  children, 
their  better  education,  and  the  making  of  due  provision  for  their 
settlement  in  life. 

3.  The  peace  of  human  society,  in  cutting  off  a  principal 
source  of  contention,  by  assigning  one ,  pr-jiwfft'  women  to  one 
man,  and  protecting  his  exclusive  right  by  sanctions  of  morality 
and  law. 

4.  The  better  government  of  society,  by  distributing  the  com- 
munity into  separate  families,  and  appointing  over  each  the  au- 
thority of  a  master  of  a  family,  which  has  m<ore  actual  influence 
than  all  civil  authority  put  together. 

5^  The  same  end,  in  the  additional  security  which  the  state 
receives  for  the  good  behaviour  of  its  citizens,  from  the  solicitude 
they  feel  for  the  welfare  of  their  children,  and  from  their  being 
confined  to  permanent  habitations. 

6.   The  encouragement  of  industry. 

Some  ancient  nations  appear  to  have  been  more  sensible  of  the 
importance  of  marriage  institutions  than  we  are.  The  Spartans 
obliged  their  citizens  to  marry  by  penalties,  and  the  Romans 
encouraged  theirs  by  the  jus  trium  liberorum.  A  man  who  had 
no  child,  was  entitled  by  the  Roman  law  only  to  one  half  of  any 
legacy  that  should  be  left  him,  that  is,  at  the  most,  could  only 
receive  one  half  of  the  testator's  fortune. 


CHAPTER  II. 

FORNICATION.  ^^ 

THE  first  and  great  mischief,  and  by  consequence  the  guilt,  of 
promiscuous  concubinage,  consists  in  its  tendency  to  diminish 
marriages,  and  thereby  to  defeat  the  several'public  and  beneficial 
purposes  enumerated  in  the  preceding  chapter. 


I 


FORNICATION,  185 

Promiscuous  concubinage  discourages  marriage,  by  abating 
the  chief  temptation  to  it.  The  male/  part  of  the  species  will 
not  undertake  the  incumbrance,  expense,  and  restraint  of  married 
life,  if  they  can  gratify  their  passions  at  a  cheaper  price  ;  and 
they  will  undertake  any  thing  rather  than  not  gratify  them. 

The  reader  will  learn  to  comprehend  the  magnitude  ot  this 
mischief,  by  attending  to  the  importance  and  variety  of  the  uses 
to  which  marriage  is  subservient  ;  and  by  recollecting  withal, 
that  the  malignity  and  moral  quality  of  each  crime  is  not  to  be 
estimated  by  the  particular  effect  of  one  offence,  or  of  one  per- 
son's offending,  but  by  the  general  tendency  and  consequence  of 
crimes  of  the  same  nature.  The  libertine  may  not  be  conscious 
that  these  irregularities  hinder  his  own  marriage,. from  which  he  is 
deterred,  he  may  allege,  by  many  different  considerations  ;  much 
less  does  he  perceive  how  his  indulgences  can  hinder  other  men 
from  marrying  :  but  what  will  he  say  would  be  the  conse(iuence, 
if  the  same  licentiousness  were  universal  ?  or  what  should  hinder 
its  becoming  universal,  if  it  be  innocent  or  allowable  in  hiin. 

2.  Fornication  supposes  prostitution  ;  and  prostitution  brings 
and  leaves  the  victims  of  it  to  almost  certain  misery.  It  is  no 
small  quantity  of  misery  in  the  aggregate,  which,  between  want, 
disease,  and  insult,  is  suffered  by  those  outcasts  of  human  socie- 
ty, who  infest  populous  cities  ;  the  whole  of  which  is  a  general 
consequence  of  fornication,  and  to  the  increase  and  continuance 
of  which,  every  act  and  instance  of  tornication  contributes. 

3.  Fornication*  produces  habits  of  ungovernable  lewdness, 
which  introduce  the  more  aggravated  crimes  of  seduction,  adul- 
leiy,  violation,  &c.  Likewise,  however  it  be  accounted  for,  the 
criminal  commerce  of  the  sexes  corrupts  and  depraves  the  mind 
and  moral  character  more  tlian  any  single  species  of  vice  what- 
soever.    That  ready  perception  of  guilt,  that  prompt  and  deci- 

*  Of  this  passion  it  has  been-truly  said,  "  that  irregularity  has  no  limits ; 
"'  thai  one  excess  draws  on  another  ;  that  the  most  easy,  therefore,  as  well 
"as  the  most  excellent  way  of  being;  virtuous,  is  to  be  so  entirely." — 
Ogden,  Serm.  xvi. 
24 


J  86  FORNICATION. 

sive  resolution  against  it,  which  constitutes  a  virtuous  character, 
is  seldom  found  in  persons  addicted  to  these  indulgences.  They 
prepare  an  easy  admission  for  every  sin  that  seeks  it  ;  are,  in 
low  life,  usually  the  first  stage  in  men's  progress  to  the  most  des- 
perate villanies  ;  and  in  hij^li  life,  to  that  lamented  dissoluteness 
of  principle,  which  manifests  itself  in  a  profligacy  of  public  con- 
duct, and  a  contempt  of  the  obligations  of  religion  and  of  moral 
probity.  Add  to  this,  that  habits  of  libertinism  incapacitate  and 
indispose  the  mind  for  all  intellectual,  moral,  and  religious  plea- 
sures ;  which  is  a  great  loss  to  any  man's  happiness, 

4.  Fornication  perpetuates  a  disease,  which  may  be  accounted 
one  of  the  sorest  maladies  of  human  nature,  and  the  effects  of 
which  are  said  to  visit  the  constitution  of  even  distant  genera- 
tions. 

The  passion  being  natural,  proves  that  it  was  intended  to  be 
gratified  ;  but  under  what  restrictions,  or  whether  without  any. 
must  be  collected  from  diflcrcnt  considerations. 

The  Christian  Scriptures  condemn  fornication  absolutely  and 
peremptorily.  "  Out  of  the  heart,"  says  our  Saviour,  "  proceed 
''  evil  thoughts,  murders,  adulteries,  fornication,  thefts,  false 
"  witness,  blasphemies  ;  these  are  the  th'iigs  which  defile  a  man."' 
These  are  Christ's  ovvlt•^v(fi•ds  ;  and  one  word  from  him  on  the 
subject  is  final.  It  may  be  observed  with  what  society  fornica- 
tion is  classed  ;  with  murders,  thefts,  false  witness,  blasphemies. 
I  do  not  mean  that  these  crimes  are  all  equal,  because  they  are 
all  mentioned  together  ;  but  it  proves  that  they  are  all  crimes. 
The  Apostles  are  more  full  upon  this  topic.  One  well  known 
passage  in  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  may  stand  in  the  place  of 
all  others  ;  because,  admitting  the  authority  by  which  the  Apos- 
tles of  Christ  spake  and  wrote,  it  is  decisive  :  "  Marriage  and 
"  the  bed  undefiled,  is  honourable  amongst  all  men  ;  but  whore- 
"  mongers  and  adulterers  God  will  judge  ;"  which  was  a  great 
deal  to  say  at  a  time  when  it  was  not  agreed,  even  amongst  phi- 
losophers, that  fornication  was  a  crime. 

The  Scriptures  give  no  sar^  tinn  to  those  ar;«t«Mities,  which 
have  been  since   imposed  upon  the  world    under  the  name  ol 


FORNICATION.  I8T 

Christ's  religion  ;  as  the  celibacy  of  the  clergy,  the  praise  of 
perpetual  virginity,  the  prohihitio  concubitus  cum  gravida  uxore  ,• 
but  with  a  just  knowledge  of  and  regard  to  the  condition  and  in- 
terest of  the  human  species  have  provided,  in  the  marriage  of 
one  man  with  one  woman,  an  adequate  gratification  for  the  pro- 
pensities of  their  nature,  and  have  restrained  them  to  tliat  grati- 
fication. 

The  avowed  toleration,  and  in  some  countries  the  licensing, 
taxing,  and  regulating  of  public  brothels,  has  appeared  to  tjie 
people  an  authorizing  of  fornication  ;  and  has  contributed,  with 
other  causes,  so  far  to  vitiate  the  public  opinion,  that  there  is  no 
practice  of  which  the  immorality  is  so  little  thought  of  or  ac- 
knowledged, although  there  are  few,  in  which  it  can  more  plainly 
be  made  out.  The  legislators  who  have  patronized  receptacles 
of  prostitution,  ought  to  have  foreseen  this  eftect,  as  v»-ell  as  con- 
sidered, that  whatever  facilitates  fornicouon,  diminishes  marria- 
ges. And  as  to  the  usual  apology  for  this  relaxed  discipline, 
the  danger  of  greater  enormities  if  access  to  prostitutes  were  too 
strictly  w^atched  and  prohibited,  it  will  be  time  enough  to  look 
to  that,  after  the  laws  and  magistrates  have  done  their  utmost, 
The  greatest  vigilance  of  both  will  do  no  more,  than  oppose  some 
bounds  and  some  difficulties  to  this  intercourse.  And,  after  alb, 
these  pretended  fears  are  without  foundation  in  experience. 
The  men  are  in  all  respects  the  most  virtuous  in  countries  where 
the  women  are  most  chaste. 

There  is  a  species  of  cohabitation,  distinguishable,  no  doubt, 
from  promiscuous  concubinage,  and  which,  by  reason  of  its  re- 
semblance to  marriage,  may  be  thought  to.  participate  of  th<e 
sanctity  and  innocence  of  that  estate  :  I  mean  the  case  of  kep:. 
mistresses,  under  the  favourable  circumstance  of  mutual  fidelity^ 
This  case  I  have  heard  defended  by  some  such  apology  as  tlie 
following  : — 

"  That  the  marriage  rite  being  difllerent  in  ditfereiit  countries. 
"  and  in  the  same  country  amongst^^^difierent  sects,  and  with  some 
"  scarce  any  thing  ;  and,  moreover,  not  being  prescribed  ovoyei: 


188  FORNICATION. 

"  mentioned  in  Sciiplure,  can  lie  accounted  of  only  as  of  a  form 
"  and  ceremony  of  human  invention  ;  that,  consequently,  if  a 
"  man  and  woman  betroth  and  confine  themselves  to  each  other, 
"  their  intercourse  must  be  the  same,  as  to  all  moral  purposes, 
"  as  if  they  were  legally  married  ;  for  the  addition  or  admission 
"  of  a  mere  form  and  ceremony,  can  make  no  diflference  in  the 
*'  sight  of  God,  or  in  the  actual  nature  of  right  and  wrong." 
To  all  which  it  may  be  replied, — 

1.  If  the  situation  of  the  parties  be  the  same  thing  as  mar- 
riage, why  do  they  not  marry  ? 

2.  If  the  man  choose  to  have  it  in  his  power  to  dismiss  the  wo- 
man at  his  pleasure,  or  to  retain  her  in  a  slate  of  humiliation  find 
dependence  inconsistent  with  the  rights  which  marriage  would 
confer  upon  her,  it  is  not  the  same  thing. 

It  is  not  at  any  rate  the  same  thing  to  the  children. 

Again,  as  to  the  marriage  rite  being  a  mere  form,  and  that  also 
variable,  the  same  may  be  said  of  signing  and  sealing  of  bonds, 
wills,  deeds  of  conveyance,  and  the  like,  which  yet  make  a  great 
difference  in  the  rights  and  obligations  of  |^he  parties  concerned 
in  them. 

And  with  respect  to  the  rite  not  being  appointed  in  Scripture  ; 
— the  Scriptures  forbid  fornication,  that  is,  cohabitation  without 
marriage,  leaving  it  to  the  law  of  each  country  to  pronounce 
what  is,  or  what  makes,  a  marriage  ;  in  like  manner  as  they  for- 
bid thefts,  that  is,  the  taking  away  of  another's  property,  leaving 
it  to  the  municipal  law  to  fix  what  makes  the  thing  property,  or 
whose  it  is  ;  which  also,  like  marriage,  depends  on  arbitrary 
and  mutable  forms. 

Laying  aside  the  injunctions  of  Scripture,  the  plain  account  of 
the  question  seems  to  be  this  :  It  is  immoral,  because  it  is  per- 
nicious that  men  and  women  should  cohabit,  without  undertaking 
certain  irrevocable  obligations,  and  mutually  conferring  certain 
civil  rights  ;  if,  therefore,  the  law  has  annexed  these  rights  and 
obligations  to  certain  forms,  '■'j  that  they  cannot  be  secured  of 
undertaken  by  any  other  means,  which  is  the  case  here,  (for 


SEDUCTION.  189 

whatever  the  parties  may  promise  to  each  other,  nothing  but  the 
marriage  ceremony  can  make  their  promise  irrevocable,)  it  be- 
comes in  the  same  degree  immoral,  that  men  and  women  should 
cohabit  without  the  interposition  of  these  forms. 

If  fornication  be  criminal,  all  those  incentives  which  lead  to  it 
are  accessaries  to  the  crime,  as  lascivious  conversation,  whether 
expressed  in  obscene,  or  disguised  under  modest  phrases  ;  also 
Avanton  songs,  pictures,  books  ;  the  writing,  publishing,  and  cir- 
culating of  which,  whether  out  of  frolic,  or  for  some  pitiful  profit, 
is  productive  of  so  extensive  a  mischief  from  so  mean  a  tempta- 
tion, that  few  crimes,  within  the  reach  of  private  wickedness, 
have  more  to  answer  for,  or  less  to  plead  in  their  excuse. 

Indecent  conversation,  and  by  parity  of  reason  all  the  rest,  are 
forbidden  by  St,  Paul,  Eph.  iv.  29.  '*  Let  no  corrupt  commu- 
"  nication  proceed  out  of  your  mouth  ;"  and  again,  Col.  iii.  8, 
''  Put  off — filthy  communication  out  of  your  mouth." 

The  invitation,  or  voluntary  admission  of  impure  thoughts,  or 
the  suffering  them  to  get  possession  of  the  imagination,  falls  with- 
in the  same  description,  and  is  condemned  by  Christ,  Matt.  v.  28. 
"  Whosoever  looketh  on  a  woman  to  lust  after  her,  hath  com- 
"  mitted  adultery  with  her  already  in  his  heart."  Christ,  by 
thus  enjoining  a  regulation  of  the  thoughts,  strikes  at  the  root  of 
the  evil. 


CHAPTER  ni. 


SEDUCTION. 


THE  seducer  practises  the  same  stratagems  to  draw  a  woman's 
person  into  his  power,  that  a  swindler  does,  to  get  possession  of 
youf  goods,  or  money  ;  yet  the  law  of  honour,  which  abhors  de- 
frejt,  applauds  the  address  of  a  successful  intrigue  :   so  much  is 


190  SKDUCTION. 

lliis  capricious  rule  guided  by  names,  and  with  such  facility 
docs  it  accommodate  itself  to  the  pleasures  and  conveiiiency  of 
higher  life  ! 

Seduction  is  seldom  accomplished  without  fraud  ;  and  the 
fraud  is  by  so  much  more  criminal  tlian  other  frauds,  as  the  in- 
jury effected  by  it  is  greater,  continues  longer,  and  less  a.dinits 
of  reparation. 

This  injury  is  threefold  :  to  the  woman,  to  her  lamily,  and  to 
the  public. 

I.  The  injury  to  the  woman  is  made  up,  of  the  'i.iiserij  .she 
suffers  from  shame,  of  the  loss  she  sustains  in  her  reputation  and 
prospects  of  marriage,  and  of  the  depravation  of  her  moral  prin- 
ciple. 

1.  This  misery  must  be  extreme,  if  we  may  judge  of  it  from 
those  barbarous  endeavours  to  conceal  their  disgrace,  to  which 
women,  under  such  circumstances,  sometimes  have  recourse  ; 
compare  this  barbarity  with  their  passionate  fondness  for  their 
offspring  in  other  cases.  Nothing  but  an  agoisy  of  mind,  the 
most  insupportable,  can  induce  a  woman  to  forget  her  nature, 
and  the  pity  which  even  a  stranger  would  sliow  to  a  helpless  and 
imploring  infant.  It  is  true,  that  all  are  not  urged  to  this  ex- 
tremity ;  but  if  any  are,  it  affords  an  indication  of  how  much  all 
suffer  from  the  same  cause.  What  shall  we  say  to  the  authors 
of  such  mischief  ? 

2.  The  loss  which  a  woman  sustains  by  the  ruin  of  her  repu- 
tation, almost  exceeds  computation.  Every  person's  happiness 
depends  in  part  upon  the  respect  and  reception  they  meet  with 
in  the  world  ;  and  it  is  no  inconsiderable  mortification,  even  to 
the  firmest  tempers,  to  be  rejected  from  the  society  of  their 
equals,  or  received  there  with  neglect  and  disdain.  fJut  this  is 
not  all,  nor  the  worst.  By  a  rule  of  life,  which  it  is  not  easy  to 
blame,  and  which  it  is  impossible  to  alter,  a  woman  loses  with 
her  chaitity  the  chance  of  marying  at  all,  or  in  any  manner  equal 
lo  the  hopes  she  had  been  accustomed  to  entertain.  Now,  mar- 
riage, whatever  it  be  to  a  man,  is  that  from  which  every  vvoma* 


SEDUCTION.  191 

expects  Iier  chief  hnppiness.  And  this  is  still  more  true,  in  low 
life,  of  which  condition  the  women  are,  who  are  most  exposed  to 
solicitations  of  this  sort.  Add  to  this,  that  where  a  woman's 
maintenance  depends  upon  her  character,  (as  it  doeSs  in  a  great 
measure,  with  those  who  are  to  support  themselves  by  service.) 
little  sometitnes  is  left  to  the  forsaken  sufferer,  but  to  starve  for 
want  of  employment,  or  to  have  recourse  to  prostitution  for  food 
and  raiment. 

3.  As  a  woman  collects  her  virtue  into  this  point,  the  loss  of 
her  chastity  is  generally  the  destruction  of  her  moral  principle : 
and  this  consequence  is  to  be  apprehended,  whether  the  criminal 
intercourse  be  discovered  or  not. 

II.  The  injury  to  the  family  may  be  understood  by  the  ap- 
plication of  that  infallible  rule,  "  of  doing  to  others  what  tec 
"■  rrould  that  others  should  do  unto  us." — Let  a  father  or  a 
brother  say,  for  what  consitleration  they  would  suffer  this  injury 
iij  a  daughter  or  a  sister :  and  whether  any,  or  even  a  total  loss 
of  fortune,  would  create  equal  affliction  and  distress.  And  when 
they  reflect,  upon  this,  let  them  distinguish,  if  they  can,  between 
a  robbery  committed  upon  their  property  by  fraud  or  forgery, 
and  the  ruin  of  their  happiness  bt  the  treachery  of  a  seducer. 

III.  The  public  at  large  lose  the  benefit  of  the  woman's  ser- 
vice in  her  p'0£3V  place  and  destination,  as  a  wife  and  parent. 
This,  to  the  -TTiole  community,  may  be  little  ;  but  it  is  often 
more  than  all  the  good  which  the  seducer  does  to  the  communi- 
ty can  recompense.  Moreover,  prostitution  is  supplied  by  se- 
duction ;  and  in  proportion  to  the  danger  there  is  of  the  woman's 
Letaliing  herself,  after  her  first  sacrifice,  to  a-life  of  public  lewd- 
ness, the  seducer  is  answerable  for  the  multiplied  evils  lo  which 
his  crime  gives  birth. 

Upon  the  whole,  if  we  pursue  the  effects  of  seduction  through 
the  complicated  misery  which  it  occnsions  ;  and  if  it  be  right  tc 
estimate  crimes  by  the  mischief  they  knowMngly  produce,  it  will 
appear  somelhistg  more   than  mere  invective   to  assert,  that  not 


192  ADULTERY. 

one  half  of  the  crimes  for  which  men  sufiFer  death  by  the  laws  of 
England,  are  so  flagitious  as  tiiis.*  I 

J 


CHAPTER  IV, 

ADULTERY. 

A  NEW  sufferer  is  introduced,  the  injured  husband,  who  re- 
ceives a  wound  in  his  sensibility  and  affections,  the  most  painful 
and  incurable  that  human  nature  knows.  In  all  other  respects, 
adultery  on  the  part  of  the  man  who  solicits  the  chastity  of  a 
married  woman,  includes  the  crime  of  seduction,  and  is  attend- 
ed with  the  same  mischief. 

The  infidelity  of  the  woman  is  aggravated  by  cruelty  to  her 
children,  who  are  generally  involved  in  their  parent's  shame, 
and  always  made  unhappy  by  their  quarrel. 

If  it  be  said  that  these  consequences  are  chargeable,  not  so 
much  upon  the  crime,  as  the  discovery,  we  answer,  first,  that 
the  crime  could  not  be  discov#red  unless  it  were  committed,  and 
that  the  commission  is  never  secure  from  discovery  ;  and  second- 
ly, that  if  we  allow  of  adulterous  connexions,  wkcnever  they  can 
hope  to  escape  detection,  which  is  the  conclusion  to  which  this 
argument  conducts  us,  we  leave  the  husband  no  other  security 
for  his  wife's  chastity,  than  in  her  want  of  opportunity  or  temp- 
tation ;  which  would  probably  deter  most  men  from  marrying, 
or  render  marriage  a  state  of  jealousy  and  continual  alarm  to  the 
husband,  which  would  end  in  the  slavery  and  confinement  of 
the  wife. 

*  Yet  the  law  has  provided  no  punishment  for  this  offence  beyond  a 
pecuniary  satisfaction  to  the  injured  family;  and  this  can  only  be  come 
at,  by  one  of  the  quaintest  fictions  in  (he  world,  by  the  father's  bringing 
his  action  against  the  seducer,  for  the  loss  of  his  daughter's  service,  dur- 
ifig  her  pregnancy  and  aurturiog;. 


ADULTERY.  193 

The  von%  hy  which  married  persons  mutually  engage  their 
fidelity,  is  "  witnessed  before  God,"  and  accompanied  with 
circumstances  of  solemnity  and  religion,  which  approach  to  the 
nature  of  an  oath.  The  married  offender  therefore  incurs  a 
crime  little  short  of  perjury,  and  the  seduction  of  a  married 
woman  is  little  less  thar?  subornation  of  perjury  ; — and  this  guilt 
is  independent  of  the  discovery. 

All  behaviour  which  is  designed,  or  which  knovv'ingly  tends,  to 
captivate  the  affection  of  a  married  woman,  is  a  barbarous  in- 
trusion upon  the  peace  and  virtue  of  a  family,  though  it  fall 
short  of  adultery. 

The  usual  and  only  apology  for  adultery  is  the^  prior  trans- 
gression of  the  other  party.  There  are  degrees,  no  doubt,  in 
this,  as  in  other  crimes  ;  and  so  far  as  the  bad  effects  of  adulte- 
ry are  anticipated  by  the  conduct  of  the  husband  or  wife  who 
offends  first,  the  guilt  of  the  second  offender  is  extenuated.  But 
this  can  never  amount  to  a  justification  ;  unless  it  could  be  shown 
that  the  obligation  of  the  marriage  vow  depends  upon  the  con- 
dition of  reciprocal  fidelity  ;  for  which  construction  there  ap- 
pears no  foundation,  either  in  expediency,  or  in  the  terms  of  the 
promise,  or  in  the  design  of  the  legislature  which  prescribed  the 
marriage  rite.  Moreover,  the  rule  contended  for  by  this  plea 
has  a  manifest  tendency  to  multiply  the  offence,  but  none  to  re- 
claim the  offender. 

Tl)e  way  of  considering  the  offence  of  one  parly  as  a  provo- 
cation to  the  other,  and  the  other  as  only  reiu'iating  the  injury 
by  repeating  the  crime,  is  a  childish  trifiiqg  with  words. 

"  Thou  shalt  not  commit  adultery,"  was  an  interdict  deliver- 
ed by  God  himself.  By  the  Jewish  law,  adultery  was  capital 
to  both  parties  in  the  crime  :  "  Even  he  that  romtnitteth  adultc- 
"  ry  with  his  neighbour's  wit'e,  the  adulterer  and  adulteress  slinll 
shurely  be  put  to  death." — Levit.  xx.  10.  Which  passages 
prove,  that  the  Divine  Legislator  placed  a  great  difference  be- 
tween adultery  and  fornication.  And  with  this  agree  the  Chris- 
tian Scriptures  ;  for,  in  almost  aU  the  catalogues  they  have  left 
25 


194  ADULTERV.  ' 

us  of  crimt's  and  crimiivils,  tliey  eminicrate  "  loniication,  adal- 
*' toy,  whoromongers,  adulterers,"  (Matthew,  xv.  19.  I  Cor. 
vi.  0.  Gal.  V.  9.  Hcb.  xiii.  4  ;)  by  which  mention  of  holh. 
they  sliou'  that  tliej''  did  not  consider  tliein  as  the  same  ;  but 
that  the  crime  of  adultery  was,  in  their  njiprehension,  distinct 
from  and  accu'nulated  upon,  that  of  lornication. 

The  history  of  the  woman  taken  in  adultery,  recorded  in  the 
eighth  chapter  of  St.  John's  Gospel,  has  been  thought  by  some 
to  give  countenance  to  that  crime.  As  Christ  told  the  woman, 
*'  Neither  do  I  condemn  thee,'-  we  must  believe,  it  is  said,  that 
he  deemed  her  conduct  eithernot  criminal,  or  not  a  crime,  bow- 
ever,  of  the  heinous  nature  we  represent  it  to  be.  A  more  at- 
tentive examination  of  the  case,  will,  I  think,  convince  us,  that 
nothina;  can  be  concluded  from  it  as  to  Christ's  opinion  concern 
ing  adultery,  either  one  way  or  the  other.  The  transaptioii  is 
thus  related  :  "  Early  in  the  morning  Jesus  came  again  into  the 
*'  Temple,  and  all  the  people  came  unto  him  :  and  he  sat  dovvn 
"  and  taught  them.  And  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees  brought  unto 
"  him  a  woman  taken  in  adultery  ;  and  when  they  had  set  her  in 
*'  the  midst,  they  say  unto  him,  Master,  this  woman  was  taken  in 
"  adultery,  in  the  very  act ;  now  Moses,  in  the  law,  command- 
"  ed  that  such  should  be  stoned  ;  but  what  sayest  thou  ?  This 
"  they  said  tempting  him,  that  they  might  have  to  accuse  him. 
"  But  Jesus  stooped  down,  and  with  his  finger  wrote  on  the 
"  ground,  as  though  he  heard  them  not.  So  when  they  cpntin- 
"  ued  askmg  him,  he  lift  up  himself,  and  said  unto  them.  He 
"  that  is  witlioiit  sin  amongst  you,  let  him  first  cast  a  stone  at  her : 
"  and  agair)  he  stooped  down  and  wrote  on  the  ground  :  and  the}'" 
"  which  heard  it,  being  convicted  by  their  own  conscience,  went 
"  out  one  by  one,  begiiming  at  the  eldest,  even  unto  the  last ; 
"  and  Jesus  was  left  alone,  and  the  woman  standing  in  the  midst. 
"  When  Jesus  had  lift  up  himself,  and  saw  none  but  the  woman, 
"  he  said  unto  her.  Woman,  where  are  those  thine  accusers  ? 
"  hath  no  man  condemned  thee  ?  She  said  unto  him.  No  man, 
"  Lord.  And  he  said  unto  her.  Neither  do  I  condemn  thee:  go, 
"  and  sin  no  more." 


ADULTERY.  195 

"  Tliisi  they  said  tempting  liiin,  that  they  might  have  to  ac- 
*'  cuse  him  ;"  to  draw  him,  that  is,  into  an  exercise  of  judicial 
authority,  that  they  might  Iiave  to  accuse  him  before  the  Ro- 
man governor,  of  usurping  or  intermeddling  with  the  civil  gov- 
ernment. Tliis  was  their  design ;  and  Christ's  behaviour 
throughout  the  whole  affair  proceeded  from  a  knowledge  of  this 
design,  and  a  determination  to  defeat  it.  He  gives  them  at  fir-sl 
a  cold  and  sullen  reception,  well  suited  to  the  insidious  intention 
with  which  they  came  :  "  He  stooped  down,  and  with  his  finger 
*'  wrote  on  the  ground,  as  though  he  beard  them  not."  "When 
"  they  continved  asking  him,"  when  they  teased  him  to  speak, 
he  dismissed  them  with  a  rebuke,  which  the  impertinent  malice 
of  their  errand,  as  well  as  the  sacred  character  of  matiV'of  them^ 
deserved  :  "  He  that  is  without  sin  (that  is,  thrs  sin)  among  you, 
"  let 'him  first  cast  a  stone  at  her."  This  had  i-ts  effect.  Stung 
•with  .the  xeproof,  and  disappointed  of  their  aim,  they  stole  away 
one  by  one,  and  left  Jesus  and  the  woman  alone.  And  then  fol- 
:iows  the  conversation,  which  is  the  part  of  the  narrative  most 
inaterial  to  our  present  subject.  "  Jesus  sailh  unto  her.  Woman, 
■"where  are  those  thine  accusers?  hath  no  man  condemned 
*'  thee  ?  She  said,  No  man.  Lord.  And  Jesus  said  unto  her, 
"  Neither  do  I  condemn  thee  ;  go,  and  sin  no  more."  Now, 
when  Christ  asked  the  woman,  "  Hath  no  man  condemned  thee  ?" 
lie  certainly -spoke,  and  was  understood  by  the  wornan  to  speakj 
of  a  legal  a^d  judicial  condemnation.;  otherwise,  h.er  answer, 
■'  No  man.  Lord,"  was  not  true.  In  every  other  sense  of  con- 
demnation, as  blame,  censure,  reproof,  private  judgment,  and 
the  like,  many  had  condemned  her ;  all  those  indeed  who 
•brought  her  to  Jesus.  If  tlien  a  judicial  sentence  v>as  what 
Christ  meant  by  candcmtdng  in  the  question,  the  common  use  of 
language  requires  us  to  suppose  that  he  meant  the  sauie  in  lue 
reply,  "  Neither  do  I  condemn  thee;"  i.  e.  I  pretend  to  no  jn- 
dicial  character  or  authority  over  ihce  ;  it  is  no  olilcc  or  husi- 
.ness  of  mine  to  pronounce  or  execute  the  sentence  oi  the  Inw- 


196  '  INCEST. 

When  Christ  adds,  "  Go,  and  sin  no  more,"   he  in  efiecl  tolls 
her,  that  she  had  sinned  alreadj' ;  hut  as  to  the  degree  or  tjual- 
ity  of"  the  sin,   or  Christ's   opinion  concerning  it,   nothing  is  de-  ^ 
clared,  or  can  he  inferred,  cither  way. 

Adulte'j,  whicli  was  punished  witii  dfvith  during  the  Usurpa- 
tion, is  now  regarded  by  the  law  of  England  as  only  a  civil  in- 
jury ;  for  which  the  inipertect  satisfaction  that  money  can  aiTordj 
may  be  recovered  by  the  husband. 


CHAPTER  V. 

INCEST. 

IN  order  to  preserve  chastity  in  families,  and  between  per- 
sons of  different  sexes,  brought  up  and  living  together  in  a  state 
of  unreserved  intimacy,  it  is  necessary  by  every  method  pos- 
sible to  inculcate  an  abliorrence  of  incestuous  conjunctions  ; 
^vhicii  abhorrence  can  only  be  u|>held  by  the  absolute  reproba- 
tion of  all  commerce  of  the  sexes  between  near  relations.  Up- 
on this  principle,  the  marriage,  as  well  as  other  cohabitations 
of  brothers  and  sisters,  of  lineal  kindred,  and  of  all  who  usually 
live  in  the  same  family,  may  be  said  to  be  forbidden  by  the 
law  of  nature. 

Restrictions  which  extend  to  remoter  degrees  of  kindred  than 
what  this  reason  makes  it  necessary  to  prohibit  from  intermar- 
riage, are  founded  in  the  authority  of  the  positive  law  which 
ordains  them,  and  can  only  be  justified  by  their  tendency  to 
diffuse  wealth,  to  connect  families,  or  promote  !>ome  political 
advantage. 

The  Levitical  law,  which  is  received  in  this  country,  and 
from  which  the  rule  of  the  Roman  law  differs  very  little,  pro- 
hibits marriage  between  relations,  within  three  degrees  of  kin- 
dred ;  computing  the, genes. itions  through  thr*  common  auce-lor, 


POLYGAMY.  197 

and  accounting  affinity  the  same  as  consanguinity.*  The  issue, 
however,  of  such  marriages  are  not  bastardized,  unless  the  pa~ 
rents  be  divorced  during  their  lifetime. 

The  Egyptians  are  said  to  have  allowed  of  the  marriage  of 
brothers  and  sisters.  Amongst  the  Athenians,  a  very  singular 
regulation  prevailed  ;  brothers  and  sisters  of  the  half  blood,  if 
related  by  the  fatiier's  side,  might  marry  ;  if  by  the  mother's 
side,  they  were  prohibited  from  marrying.  The  same  custom 
also  probably  obtained  in  Chaldea  so  early  as  the  age  in  which 
Abraham  left  it  ;  for,  he  and  Sarah  his  wife  stood  in  this  relation 
to  each  other  :  "  And  yet,  indeed,  she  is  my  sister  ;  she  is  the 
"  daughter  of  my  father,  but  not  of  my  mother  ;  and  she  becarae 
''my  wife."     Gen.  xx.  12. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

POLYGAMY. 

THE  equality!  in  the  number  of  males  and  females  born  into 
the  world,  intimates  the  intention  of  God,  that  one  woman  should 
he  assigned  to  one  man  ;  for,  if  to  one  man  be  allowed  an  ex- 
clusive right  to  five  or  more  women,  four  or  more  men  must  be 
deprived  of  the  exclusive  possession  of  any  ;  which  could  never 
be  the  order  intended. 

It  seems  also  a  pretty  significant  indication  of  the  Divine  will, 
that  he  at  first  created  only  one  woman  to  one  man.     Had  God 

*  The  Roman  law  contiuucd  the  prohibition  without  hmits  to  the  de- 
scendants of  brothers  and  sisters.  In  the  Levitical  or  English  law,  there 
is  nothing  to  hinder  a  man  from  marrying  his  great  niece. 

t  This  equality  is  not  exact.  The  number  of  male  infants  exceeds  that 
of  females  in  the  proportion  of  nineteen  to  eighteen,  or  thereabouts ;  which 
excess  provides  for  for  the  greater  consumption  of  male*  by  war,  seafaring, 
and  other  dangerous  or  unhealthy  occupations. 


198  POLYGAMV. 

intended  polyga:ny  foi'  the  species,  it  h  prob;ib!e  1ir  uouiil  iiave 
begun  witli  it  ;  €Sj)ecially  as,  by  giving  to  Adam  more  wives 
tliati  one,  the  multiplication  of  the  hunirui  race  would  have  ])ro- 
ceeded  \vith  a  quicker  progress. 

Polygamy  not  only  violates  (he  constitution  of  nature,  and  the 
apparent  design  of  the  Deity,  but  j)roduccs  to  the  parties  them- 
selves, and  to  the  public,  the  following  bad  cfiVcts  :  contests  and 
jealousies  amongst  the  wives  of  the  same  hu->band  ;  distracted 
affections,  or  the  loss  of  all  affection  in  the  husband  himself;  a 
voluptuousness  in  the  rich,  which  dissolves  the  vigour  of  their 
intellectual  as  well  as  active  faculties,  producing  that  indolence 
and  imbecility  both  of  mind  and  body,  which  have  long  charac- 
terized the  nations  of  the  East  ;  the  abasement  of  one  half  the 
liuman  species,  who,  in  countries  where  polygamy  obtains,  are 
degraded  into  mere  instrunteiits  of  physical  pleasure  to  the  other 
half;  neglect  of  children  ;  and  the  manifohl,  and  sometimes  un- 
natural mischiefs,  which  arise  from  a  scarcity  of  women.  To 
compensate  for  these  evils,  polygamy  does  not  offer  a  single  ad- 
vantage. In  the  article  of  population,  which  it  has  been  thought 
to  promote,  the  connnunity  gain  nothing  ;"*  for  the  question  is  not, 

*  Nothing',  I  mean,  compared  with  a  slate  in  which  marria2;c  is  nearly 
universal.  Where  marriages  are  less  g^enoral,  nn  1  many  women  nufrait- 
ful  from  the  want  of  husbands,  polygamy  might  at  first  add  a  little  fo  pi»ii- 
ulation,  and  but  a  little;  for,  as  a  variety  of  wives  w<juld  be  sought 
•chiefly  from  temptations  of  voluptuousness,  it  would  rather  increase  the 
demand  for  female  beauty,  than  for  the  sex  at  large.  And  this  liltle 
•jvould  soon  be  made  less  by  many  deductions.  For,  firstly,  as  none  but 
the  opulent  can  maintain  a  plurality  of  wives,  where  polygamy  obtains, 
Ihe  rich  indulge  in  it,  while  the  rest  take  up  with  a  vague  and  barren 
iucontinency.  And,  secondly,  women  would  grow  less  jealous  of  their 
virtue,  when  they  had  nothing  for  which  to  reserve  it,  but  a  chamber  in 
the  haram;  when  their  chastity  was  no  longer  to  be  rewarded  with  the 
rights  and  happiness  of  a  wife,  as  enjoyed  under  the  marriage  of  one  wo- 
man to  one  inan.  These  considerations  may  be  added  to  what  is  men- 
tioned in  the  text,  concerning  tlie  easy  and  early  settlement  of  children  iia 
the  world. 


POLYGAMY.  I9gr 

whether  one  man  will  have  more  children  by  five  or  more  wives 
than  by  one  ;  but  whether  these  five  wives  would  not  bear  the 
same,  or  a  greater  number  of  children  to  five  separate  husbands. 
And  as  to  the  care  of  the  children  when  produced,  and  the  send- 
ing of  them  into  the  world  in  situations  in  which  they  may  be 
likely  to  form  and  bring  up  families  of  their  own,  upon  which 
the  increase  and  succession  of  the  human  species  in  a  great  de- 
gree depends  ;  this  is  less  provided  for,  and  less  practicable, 
where  twenty  or  thirty  children  are  to  be  supported  by  the  at- 
tention and  fortunes  of  ooe  father,  than  if  they  were  divided  into 
five  or  six  families,  to  each  of  which  were  assigned  the  industry 
and  inheritance  of  two  parents. 

Whether  simultaneous  polygamy  was  peripitted  by  the  law  of 
Moses,  seems  doubtful  ;*  but  whether  permitted  or  not,  it  was 
certainly  practised  by  the  Jewish  patriarchs,  both  before  that 
law,  and  under  it.  Tlie  permission,  if  there  was  any,  might  be 
like  that  of  divorce,  "  tor  the  hardness  of  their  heart,"  in  conde- 
scension to  their  established  indulgences  rather  than  from  the 
general  rectitude  or  propriety  of  the  thing  itself.  The  state  of 
manners  in  Judea  had  probably  undergone  a  rel'ormation  in  this 
respect  before  the  time  of  Christ,  for  in  the  New  Testament  we 
meet  with  no  trace  or  mention  of  any  such  practice  being  tole- 
rated. 1 

For  which  reason,  and  because  it  .was  likewise  forbidden 
amongst  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  we  cannot  expect  to  find  any 
express  law  upon  the  subject  in  the  Christian  code.  The  words 
of  Christ, t  Matt.  xix.  9.  may  be  construed  by  an  easy  implica* 
tion  to  prohibit  polygamy  ;  for,  if  "  whosoever  piittetli  away  his 
"  wife,  and  rnarrietk  another,  cominitteth  adultery,"  he  who 
marrieth  another  without  puttin^g  away  the  first,  is  no  less  guilty 
of  adultery  ;  because  the  adultery  does  not  consist  in  the  repu- 
diation of  the  first  wife  (for,   however  unjust  or  cruel  that  may 

*  See  Deut.  xvii.  17.     sxi.  15. 

t  "  I  say  unto  you,  Whosoever  shall  put  away  his  wife,  except  it  be  for 
'■•  foruication,  aad  shall  murry  another,  comraitteth  adultery." 


200  rOLYGAMY. 

be,  it  is  not  ai.Uiltcr>-,)  but  in  entering  into  a  second  niairin«(e, 
during  the  legal  existence  and  obligation  of  the  first.  The  sev- 
eral passages  in  St.  Paul's  writings  which  speak  ot"  marriage,  al- 
ways suppose  it  to  signify  the  union  of  one  man  with  one  woman. 
Upon  this  supposition  he  argues,  Rom.  vii.  2,  3.  "  Know  yc 
"  not,  brethren,  (for  I  speak  to  them  that  know  the  law,)  how 
"  that  the  law  hath  dominion  over  a  man  as  loni^  as  he  liveth  ? 
"  For  the  woman  which  hath  an  husband,  is  bound  by  the  law 
"  to  her  husband,  so  long  as  he  liveth  ;  but  if  the  husband  be 
"  dead,  she  is  loosed  from  the  law  of  her  husband  :  so  then,  if 
"  while  her  husband  liveth  she  be  married  to  another  man,  she 
"  shall  be  called  an  adulteress."  When  the  same  Apostle  per- 
mits marriage  to  his  Corinthian  converts,  (which,  "  for  the  present 
"  distress,"  he  judges  to  be  inconvenient,)  he  restrains  the  per- 
mission to  the  marriage  of  one  husband  with  one  wife  :  "  it  is 
*'  good  for  a  man  not  to  touch  a  woman  ;  nevertheless,  to  avoid 
"  fornication,  let  every  man  have  his  own  wife,  and  let  every 
"  woman  have  her  own  husband.". 

The  manners  of  different  countries  have  varied  in  nothing'more 
than  in  their  domestic  constitutions.  Less  polished  and  more 
luxurious  nations  have  cither  not  perceived  the  bad  effects  of  po- 
lygamy, or,  if  they  did  perceive  them,  they  who  in  such  coun- 
tries possessed  the  power  of  reforming  the  laws,  have  been  un- 
willing to  resign  their  own  gratifications.  Polygamy  is  retained 
at  this  day  among  the  Turks,  and  throughout  every  part  of  As^ia 
in  wiiich  Christianity  is  not  professed.  In  Christian  countries  it 
is  universally  prohihitcd.  In  Sweden  it  is  punished  with  death. 
In  England,  besides  the  nullity  of  the  second  marriage,  it  sub- 
jects the  offender  to  imprisonment  and  branding  for  the  first  of- 
fence, and  to  capital  punishment  for  the  second.  And  whatever 
may  be  said  in  behalf  of  polygamy,  when  it  is  authorized  by  the 
law  of  the  land,  the  marriage  of  a  second  wife  during  the  life- 
time of  the  first,  in  coi'utries  where  such  a  second  marriage  is 
void,  must  be  ranked  with  the  most  dangerous  and  cruel  of  those 
frauds,  by  which  a  woman  is  cheated  out  of  her  fortune,  her  per- 
soHj  and  her  happiness. 


t)iVORC£.  201 

The  ancient  Medes  compelled  their  citizens,  in  one  canton,  to 
take  seven  wives  ;  in  another,  each  woman  to  receive  five  hus- 
bands :  according  as  war  had  made,  in  one  quarter  of  their  coun- 
try, an  extraordniary  havock  among  the  men,  or  the  women  had 
been  carried  away  by  an  enemy  from  another.  This  regulation, 
so  far  as  it  was  adapted  to  the  proportion  which  subsisted  be- 
tween the  numbers  of  males  and  females,  was  founded  in  the 
reason  upon  which  the  most  improved  nations  of  Europe  proceed 
at  present. 

Caesar  found  amongst  the  inhabitants  of  this  island  a  species 
of  polygamy,  if  it  may  be  so  called,  which  was  perfectly  singular. 
Uxores,  says  he,  habcnt  dcni  duodenique  inter  se  communes,  et 
rnaxime  fratres  cum  fratribus,  parentesque  cum  liberis  ;  sed  si 
qui  sunt  ex  his  nati,  eorum  habentur  liberi,  quo  primuni  virgo 
quosque  deducta  est. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

OF  DIVORCE. 

BY  divorce,  I  mean  the  dissolution  of  the  marriage  contract^ 
by  the  act,  and  at  the  will  of  the  husband. 

This  power  was  allowed  to  the  husband  among  the  Jews,  the 
Greeks,  and  latter  Romans  ;  and  is  at  this  day  exercised  by  the 
Turks  and  Persians. 

The  congruity  of  such  a  right  with  the  law  of  nature,  is  the 
question  before  us. 

And,  in  the  first  place,  it  is  manifestly  inconsistent  with  the 
duty  which  the  parents  owe  to  their  children  ;  which  duty  can 
never  be  so  well  fulfilled  as  by  their  cohabitation  and  united  care. 
It  is  also  incompatible  with  the  right  which  the  mother  possesseSj 
as  well  as  the  father,  to  the  gratitude  of  her  children,  and  the 
comfort  of  their  society  ;  of  both  which  she  is  almost  necessarily 
deprived,  by  her  dismission  from  her  husband's  family. 
56 


202  DIVORCE. 

Where  this  objection  does  not  interfere,  I  know  ot"  no  jirinciplc 
of  the  law  of  nature  applicable  to  the  question,  beside  that  of 
general  expediency. 

For,  if  we  say,  that  arbitrary  divorces  are  excluded  by  the 
terms  of  the  marriage  contract,  it  may  be  answered,  that  the 
contract  might  be  framed  so  as  to  admit  of  this  condition. 

If  we  argue  with  some  moralists,  that  the  obligation  of  a  con- 
tract  natirrally  continues  so  long  as  the  purpose  which  the  con- 
tracting parties  had  in  view  retiuires  its  continuance,  it  will  be 
difljcult  to  show  what  purpose  of  the  contract  (the  care  of  children 
excepted)  should  confine  a  man  to  a  woman,  from  whom  he  seeks 
to  be  loose. 

If  we  contend  with  others,  that  a  contract  cannot,  by  the  law 
of  nature,  be  dissolved,  unless  the  parties  be  replaced  in  the  situ- 
ation which  each  possessed  before  the  contract  was  entered  into  ; 
we  shall  be  called  upon  to  prove  this  to  be  an  universal  or  indis- 
pensable property  of  contracts. 

I  confess  myself  unable  to  assign  any  circumstance  in  the  mar- 
riage contract,  which  essentially  distinguishes  it  from  other  con- 
tracts, or  which  proves  that  it  contains,  what  many  have  ascribed 
to  it,  a  natural  incapacity  of  being  dissolved  by  the  consent  of 
the  parties,  at  the  option  of  one  of  them,  or  either  of  them.  But 
if  we  trace  the  eCfects  of  such  a  rule  upon  the  general  happiness 
of  married  life,  we  shall  perceive  reasons  of  expediency,  that 
abundantly  justify  the  policy  of  those  laws  which  refuse  to  the 
husband  the  power  of  divorce,  or  restrain  it  to  a  few  extreme 
and  specific  provocations  ;  and  our  principles  teach  us  to  pro- 
nounce that  to  be  contrary  to  the  law  of  nature,  which  can  be 
proved  to  be  detriaiental  to  the  common  happiness  of  the  human 
species. 

A  lawgiver,  whose  counsels  were  directed  by  views  of  general 
utility,  and  obstructed  by  no  local  impediment,  would  make  the 
marriage  contract  indissoluble  during  the  joint  lives  of  the  parties, 
for  the  sake  of  the  following  advantages  : — 


I 


DIVORCE.  20S 

I.  Because  this  tends  to  preserve  peace  and  concord  between 
married  persons,  by  perpetuating  their  common  interest,  and  by 
inducing  a  necessity  of  mutual  compliance. 

There  is  great  weight  and  substance  in  both  these  considera- 
tions. An  earlier  terimination  of  the  union  would  produce  a  se- 
parate interest.  The  wife  would  naturally  look  forward  to  the 
dissolution  of  the  partnership,  and  endeavour  to  draw  to  herself 
a  fund  against  the  time  when  she  was  no  longer  to  have  access 
to  the  same  resources.  This  would  beget  peculation  on  one  side, 
and  mistrust  on  the  other  ;  evils  which  at  present  very  little  dis- 
turb the  confidence  of  married  life.  The  second  effect  of  making 
the  union  determinable  only  by  death,  is  not  less  beneficial.  It 
necessarily  happens,  that  adverse  tempers,  babits,  and  tastes, 
oftentimes  meet  in  marriage^  In  which  case,  each  party  must 
take  pains  to  give  up  what  offends,  aiid  practice  what  may  gratify 
the  other.  A  man  and  woman  in  love  with  each  other,  do  this 
insensibly  :  but  love  is  neither  general  nor  durable  ;  and  where 
that  is  wanting,  no  lessons  of  duty,  no  delicacy  of  sentiment,  will 
go  half  so  far  with  the  generality  of  mankind  and  womankind,  as 
this  one  intelligiljle  reflection,  that  they  must  each  make  the  best 
of  their  bargain  ;  and  that,  seeing  they  must  either  both  be  rais- 
prable,  or  both  share  in  the  same  happiness,  neither  can  find 
their  own  comfort,  but  in  promoting  the  pleasure  of  the  other.« 
These  compliances,  tiiough  at  first  extorted  by  necessity,  become 
in  time  easy  and  mutual  ;  and,  though  less  endearing  than  assi- 
duities which  take  their  rise  from  affection,  generally  procure  to 
the  married  pair  a  repose  and  satisfaction  sufficient  for  their  hap- 
piness. 

II.  Because  new  objects  of  desire  would  be  continually  sought 
after,  if  men  could,  at  will,  be  released  from  their  subsisting  eu- 
gagements.  Suppose  the  husband  to  have  once  preferred  his 
v/ife  to  all  other  women,  the  duration  of  this  preference  cannot 
be  trusted  to.  Possession  makes  a  great  difference  ;  and  there 
is  no  other  security  against  the  invitations  of  novelty,  than  the 
known  impossibility  of  obtaining  the  object.      Did  the  cause 


204  DIVORCE, 

which  brings  the  sexes  together,  hold  them  together  by  the  sarae 
force  with  which  it  first  attracted  them  to  each  other,  or  could 
the  woman  be  restored  to  her  personal  integrity,  and  to  all  the 
advantages  of  her  virgin  estate,  the  power  of  divorce  might  be 
deposited  in  the  hands  of  the  husband  wilh  less  danger  of  abuse 
or  inconvcniency.  But  constituted  as  mankind  are,  and  injured 
as  the  repudiated  wife  generally  must  be,  it  is  necessary  to  add 
a  stability  to  the  condition  of  married  women,  more  secure  than 
the  continuance  of  their  husband's  affection  ;  and  to  supj)ly  to 
both  sides,  by  a  sfense  of  duty  and  of  obligation,  what  satiety  has 
impaired  of  passion  and  of  personal  attachment.  Upon  the 
whole,  the  power  of  divorce  is  evidently  and  greatly  to  the  disr 
advantage  of  the  woman  ;  and  the  ojily  question  appears  to  be^ 
whether  the  real  and  permanent  happine?s  of  one  half  of  the  spe-? 
cies  should  be  surrendered  to  the  caprice  and  voluptuousness  of 
the  other  ? 

We  have  considered  divorces  as  depending  upon  the  will  of 
the  husband,  because  that  is  the  way  in  which  they  have  actu- 
ally obtained  in  many  parts  of  the  world  :  but  the  same  objec- 
tions apply,  in  a  great  degree,  to  divorces  by  mutual  consent  ; 
especially  when  we  consider  the  indelicate  situation,  and  small 
prospect  of  happiness,  which  remains  to  the  party  who  opposed 
his  or  her  dissent  to  the  liberty  and  desires  of  the  otlier. 

The  law  of  nature  admits  of  an  exception  in  favour  of  the  in- 
jured party,  in  cases  of  adultery,  of  obstinate  desertion,  of  at- 
tempts upon  life,  of  outrageous  cruelty,  of  incurable  madness, 
and  perhaps  of  personal  imbecility  ;  but  by  no  means  indulges 
the  same  privilege  to  mere  dislike,  to  opposition  of  humours  and 
inclinations,  to  contrariety  of  taste  and  temper,  to  complaints  of 
coldness,  neglect,  severity,  peevishness,  jealousy  ;  not  that  these 
reasons  are  trivial,  but  because  such  objections  may  alwaj^s  be 
alleged,  and  are  impossible  by  testimony  to  be  ascertained  ;  so 
that  to  allow  implicit  credit  to  them,  and  to  dissolve  marriages 
whenever  either  party  thought  fit  to  pretend  them,  would  leafl 
in  its  efiects  to  all  th?  licentiousness  of  arbitrary  divorqes. 


DIVORCE.  205 

Milton's  stoiy  is  well  known.  Upon  a  quarrel  with  his  wife, 
he  paid  his  addresses  to  another  woman,  and  set  forth  a  public 
vindication  of  his  conduct,  by  attempting  to  prove,  that  confirmed 
dislike  was  as  just  a  foundation  for  di&solving  the  marriage  con- 
tract as  adultery  :  to  which  position,  and  to  all  the  arguments  by 
which  it  can  be  supported,  the  above  consideration  affords  a  suf- 
ficient answer.  And  if  a  married  pair,  in  actual  and  irreconci- 
lable discord,  complain  that  their  happiness  would  be  better  con- 
sulted by  permitting  them  to  determine  a  connexion,  which  is 
become  odious  to  both,  it  may  be  told  them,  that  the  same  per- 
mission, as  a  general  rule,  would  produce  libertinism,  dissension, 
and  misery,  amongst  thousands,  who  are  now  virtuous,  and  quiet, 
and  happy  in  their  condition  :  and  it  ought  to  satisfy  them  to  re- 
flect, that  when  their  happiness  is  sacrificed  to  the  operation  of 
an  unrelenting  rule,  it  is  sacrificed,  to  the  happiness  of  the  com' 
munity. 

The  Scriptures  seem  to  have  drawn  the  obligation  tighter  than 
the  law  of  nature  left  it.  "Whosoever,"  saith  Christ,  "shall 
"  put  away  his  wife,  except  it  be  for  fornication,  and  shall  many 
"  another,  committeth  adultery  ;  and  whoso  marrieth  her  which 
"  is  put  away,  doth  commit  adultery."  Matt.  xix.  9.  The  Jaw 
of  Moses,  for  reasons  of  local  expediency,  permitted  the  Jewish 
husband  to  put  away  his  wife  ;  but  whether  for  every  cause,  or 
for  what  causes,  appears  to  have  been  controverted  amongst  the 
interpreters  of  those  times.  Christ,  the  precepts  of  whose  reli- 
gion were  calculated  for  more  general  use  and  observation,  re- 
vokes this  permission,  (as  given  to  the  Jews  "  for  the  hardness  of 
"  their  hearts,")  and  promulges  a  law  which  was  thenceforward 
to  confine  divorces  to  the  single  cause  of  adultery  in  the  wife. 
And  I  see  no  sufficient  reason  to  depart  from  the  plain  and  strict 
•ncaning  of  his  words.  The  rule  was  new.  It  both  surprised 
and  offended  his  disciples  ;  yet  Christ  added  nothing  to  relax  or 
explain  it.  . 

Inferior  causes  may  Justify  the  separation  of  husband  and  wife, 
;4iihough  they  will  not  authorize  such  a  dissolution  of  the  mar- 


20t>  DIVORCE. 

riage  confracl  as  would  leave  either  at  liberlj  to  marry  again  , 
for  it  is  (bat  liberty  in  nbicb  tlie  danger  and  mischief  ol  divorces 
principally  consist.  It  the  care  of  children  does  not  require  that 
they  should  live  together,  and  it  is  become,  in  the  serious  judg- 
ment of  both,  necessary  for  their  mutual  happiness  that  they 
should  separate,  let  them  separate  by  consent.  Nevertheless, 
this  necessity  can  hardly  exist,  without  guilt  and  misconduct  on 
one  side  or  on  both.  Moreover,  cruelty,  ill  usage,  extreme  vio- 
lence, or  moroseness  of  temper,  or  other  great  and  continued  provo- 
cations, make  it  lawful  for  the  party  aggrieved  to  withdraw  from 
the  society  of  the  offender  without  his  or  her  consent.  The  law 
which  imposes  the  marriage  vow,  whereby  the  parties  promise 
to  "  keep  to  each  other,"  or,  in  other  words,  to  live  together, 
must  be  understood  to  impose  it  with  a  silent  reservation  of  these 
cases  ;  because  the  same  law  has  constituted  a  judicial  relief 
from  the  tyranny  of  the  husband,  by  the  divorce  a  mensa  et  toro, 
and  by  the  provision  which  it  makes  for  the  separate  maintenance 
of  the  injured  wife.  St.  Paul  likewise  distinguishes  between  a 
wife's  merely  separating  herself  from  the  family  of  her  husband, 
and  her  marrying  again  : — "  Let  not  the  wife  depart  from  her 
-*'  husband  ;  but,  and  if  she  do  depart,  let  her  remain  unmarried." 
The  lav.'  of  this  country,  in  conformity  to  our  Saviour's  injunc- 
tion, confines  the  dissolution  of  the  marriage  contract  to  the  sin- 
gle case  of  adultery  in  the  wife  ;  and  a  divorce  even  in  that  case, 
can  only  be  brought  about  by  the  operation  of  an  act  of  Parlia- 
ment, founded  upon  a  previous  sentence  in  the  spiritual  court, 
and  a  verdict  against  the  adulterer  at  common  law  ;  which  pro- 
ceedings, taken  together  compose  as  complete  an  investigation 
of  the  complaint  as  a  cause  can  receive.  It  has  lately  been  pro- 
posed to  the  legislature  to  annex  a  clause  to  these  acts,  restrain- 
ing the  offending  party  from  marrying  with  the  companion  of  her 
crime,  who,  by  the  course  of  proceeding,  is  always  known  and 
convicted  ;  for  there  is  reason  to  fear,  that  adulterous  connexions 
are  often  formed  with  the  prospect  of  bringing  them  to  this  con- 
clusion ;  at  least,  when  the  seducer  has  once  captivated  the  af- 


DIVORCE.  207 

fcction  of  a  married  woman,  he  may  avail  himself  of  this  temptinj^ 
argument  to  subdue  her  scruples,  and  complete  his  victory  ;  and 
the  legislature,  as  the  business  is  managed  at  present,  assists  by 
its  interposition  the  criminal  design  of  the  otTonders,  and  confers 
a  privilege  where  it  ought  to  inflict  a  punishment.  The  proposal 
deserved  an  experiment  ;  but  something  more  penal  will,  I  ap- 
prehend, be  found  necessary  to  check  the  progress  of  this  alar- 
ming depravity,  ^yhether  a  hiw  might  not  be  framed,  directing 
the  fortune  of  the  adulteress  to  descend,  as  in  case  of  her  natural  ■ 
death;  reserving,  however,  a  certain  proportion  of  the  produce  of 
it,  by  way  of  annuity,  for  her  subsistence,  (such  annuity,  in  no 
case,  to  exceed  a  certain  sum,)  and  also  so  far  suspending  the  es- 
tate in  the  hands  of  the  heir,  as  to  preserve  the  inheritence  to  any 
children  she  might  bear  to  a  second  marriage,  in  case  there  was 
none  to  succeed  in  the  place  of  their  mother  by  the  first  ;  whe- 
ther, I  say,  such  a  lavv  would  not  render  female  virtue  in  higher 
life  less  vincible,  as  well  as  the  seducers  of  that  virtue  less  urgent 
in  their  suit,  we  reconmiend  to  the  deliberation  of  those,  who  arc 
willing  to  attempt  the  reformation  of  this  important,  but  most  in- 
corrigible, class  of  the  community.  A  passion  for  splendour,  for 
expensive  amusements  and  distinctions,  is  commonly  found,  in 
that  description  of  women  who  would  become  the  objects  of  such 
a  law,  not  less  inorilinate  than  their  other  appetites.  A  severity 
of  the  kind  we  propose,  ap{)lies  immediately  to  that  passion. 
And  there  is  no  rootn  for  any  complaint  of  injustice,  since  the 
provisions  above  stated,  with  others  which  might  be  contrived, 
confine  the  punishment,  so  far  as  it  is  possible,  to  the  person  of 
the  oftenJer,  suffering  the  estate  to  remain  to  tl>e  heir,  or  within 
the  family  of  the  ancestor  from  whom  it  came,  or  to  attend  the 
appointments  of  his  will. 

Sentences  of  the  ecclesiastical  courts,  which  release  the  par- 
tics  a  vinculo  matrimonii  by  reason  of  impubprty,  frigidity,  con- 
sanguinity within  the  prohibited  degrees,  prior  to  marriage,  or 
want  of  the  requisite  consent  of  parents  or  guardians,  are  not  dis- 
iohitions  of  the  marriage  contract,  but  judicial  declarations  that 


208  MARRIAGE. 

there  never  was  any  marriage  ;  such  impediment  subsisting  at 
the  time,  as  rendered  the  celebration  of  the  marriage  rite  a  mere 
nullity.  And  the  right  itself  contains  an  exception  of  these  im- 
pediments. The  man  and  woman  to  be  married  are  charged,  "  if 
"  they  know  any  impediment  why  they  may  not  be  lawfully 
"joined  together,  to  confess  it  ;"  and  assured,  "  that  so  maiiy 
"  as  are  coupled  together,  otherwise  than  God's  word  doth  allow, 
"  are  not  joined  together  by  God,  neither  is  their  matrimony  law- 
"  ful  ;"  all  which  is  intended  by  way  of  solemn  notice  to  the 
parties,  that  the  vow  they  are  about  to  make  will  bind  their  con- 
ciences  and  authorize  their  cohabitations,  only  upon  the  supposi- 
tion that  no  legal  impediment  exists. 


CHAPTER  yill. 

MARRIAGE. 

WHETHER  it  hath  grown  out  of  some  tradition  of  the  Di- 
vine appointment  of  marriage  in  the  persons  of  our  first  parents, 
or  merely  from  a  design  to  impress  the  obligation  of  the  mar- 
riage contract  with  a  solemnity  suited  to  its  importance,  the 
marriage  rite,  in  almost  all  countries  of  the  world,  has  been 
madje  a  religious  ceremony  ;*  although  marriage,  in  its  own  na- 
ture, and  abstracted  from  the  rules  and  declarations  which  the 
Jewish  and  Christian  Scriptures  deliver  concerning  it,  be  prop- 
erly a  civil  contract,  and  nothing  more. 

As  to  one  main  article  in  matrimonial  alliances,  an  alteration 
has  taken  place  in  the  fashion  of  the  world  ;  the  wife  now  brings 
money   to  her  husband,  whereas  anciently   the   husband  paid 

*  R  was  not,  however,  in  Christian  countries  required,  that  marriages 
should  be  celebrated  in  churches,  till  the  thirteenth  century  of  the  Chris- 
tian a:ra.  Marriages  in  England,  during  the  Usurpation,  were  solemni- 
sed before  Justices  of  the  Peace;  but  for  what  purpose  this  novelty  was 
introduced,  except  to  degrade  the  clergy,  does  not  appear. 


MARRIAGE.  209 

money  fo  the  taiiuly  of  the  wife  ;  as  was  the  case  among  the 
Jewish  Paliiarchs,  the  Greeks,  and  the  old  inhabitants  of  Ger- 
manrj*  This  alteration  has  proved  of  no  small  advantage  to 
the  female  sex  ;  for,  thejr  importance  in  point  of  fortune  pro- 
cures to  them,  in  modern  times,  that  assiduity  and  respect  which 
are  wanted  to  compensate  for  the  inferiority  of  their  strength  ; 
but  which  their  personal  attractions  would  not  always  secure. 

Our  business  is  with  marriage  as  it  is  established  in  this  coun- 
try. And  in  treating  thereof,  it  will  be  necessary  to  state  the 
terms  of  the  marriage  vow,  in  order  to  discover, — 

1.  What  duties  this  vow  creates. 

2.  What  situation  of  mind  at  the  time  is  inconsistent  with  it. 

3.  By  what  subsecjucnt  beiiaviour  it  is  violated. 

The  husband  promises,  on  his  part,  "  to  love,  comfort,  hon- 
"  our,  and  keep  his  wife  ;"  the  wife,  on  hers,  "to  obey,  serve, 
"  love,  honour,  and  keep  her  husband  ;"  in  every  variety  of 
liealth,  fortune,  and  condition  ;  and  both  stipulate  to  "forsake 
all  others,  and  to  keep  only  unto  one  another,  so  long  as  they 
"  both  shall  live."  This  promise  is  called  the  marriage  vow  ;  is 
witnessed  before  God  and  the  congregation  ;  accompanied  with 
prayers  to  Almighty  God  tor  his  l)lessing  upon  it ;  and  attended 
with  such  circumstaiices  of  devotion  and  solemnity,  as  place  the 
obligation  of  it,  and  the  guilt  of  violating  it,  nearly  upon  the  same 
foundation  with  that  of  oaths. 

The  parties  by  this  vow  engage  their  personal  fidelity  express- 
ly and  specificaily  ;  they  engage  likewise  to  consult  and  pro- 
mote  each  other's  happiness  ;  the  wife,  moreover,  promises  obe- 
dience to  her- husband.  Mature  may  have  made  and  left  the 
sexes  of  the  human  species  nearly  equal  in  their  faculties,  and 
y)evt"ecliy  so  in  their  rights  ;  but  to  guard  against  those  competi- 
tions which  equality,  or  a  contested  superiority,  is  almost  sure 

*  The  ancient  Asayrians  sold  their  hcaulies  bv  an  annual  auction.  The 
prices  were  applied  by  way  of  portions  to  the  more  homely.  By  this 
contrivance,  all  of  both  sorts  were  disposed  of  iu  marriage. 

27 


210  MARKIAGE.      » 

to  produce,  the  Christian  Scriptures  enjoin  upon  the  wife  that 
obedience  which  she  here  promises,  and  in  terms  so  perempto- 
ry and  absolute,  that  it  seems  to  extend  to  every  thing  not  crim- 
inal, or  not  entirely  inconsistent  with  the  woman's  happiness. 
"  Let  the  wife,"  says  St.  Paul,  "  be  subject  to  her  own  husband 
"  in  every  thing." — "  The  ornament  of  a  meek  and  quiet  spir- 
"  it,"  says  the  same  Apostle,  speaking  of  the  duty  of  wives, 
"  is,  in  the  sight  of  God,  of  great  price."  No  words  ever  ex- 
pressed the  true  merit  of  the  female  character  so  well  as  these. 

The  condition  of  human  life  will  not  permit  us  to  say,  that  no 
one  can  conscientiously  marry  who  does  not  pi  efer  the  person  at 
the  altar  to  all  other  men  or  women  in  the  world ;  but  we  can 
have  no  dilTicultj'^  in  pronouncing,  (whether  we  respect  the  end 
of  the  institution,  or  the  plain  terms  in  which  the  contract  is  con- 
ceived,) that  whoever  is  conscious,  at  the  time  of  his  marriage, 
of  such  a  dislike  to  the  w^oman  he  is  about  to  marry,  or  of  such 
a  subsisting  attachment  to  some  other  woman,  that  he  cannot 
reasonably,  nor  does,  in  fact,  expect  ever  to  entertain  an  affec- 
tion for  his  t'uture  wife,  is  guilty,  when  he  pronounces  the  mar- 
riage vow,  of  a  direct  and  deliberate  prevarication  ;  and  that, 
too,  aggravated  by  the  presence  of  those  ideas  of  religion,  and 
of  the  Supreme  Being,  which  the  place,  the  rilual,  and  the  so- 
lemnity of  the  occasion,  cannot  fail  of  bringing  to  his  thoughts. 
The  same  likewise  of  the  woman.  This  charge  must  be  imput- 
ed to  all  who,  from  mercenary  motives,  marry  the  objects  of 
their  aversion  and  disgust ;  and  likewise  to  those  who  desert, 
from  any  motive  whatever,  the  object  of  their  affection,  and, 
without  being  able  to  subdue  that  affection,  marry  another. 

The  crime  of  falsehood  is  also  incurred  by  the  man  who  in- 
tends, at  the  time  of  his  marriage,  to  commence,  renew,  or  con- 
tinue a  personal  commerce  with  any  other  woman.  And  the 
parity  of  reason,  if  a  wife  be  capable  of  so  much  guiil,  extend" 
to  her. 

The  marriage  vow  is  violated. 

1.  By  adultery. 


DUTY  OF  PARENTS.  211 

n.  By  any  behaviour  which,  knowingly,  renders  the  life  of 
the  other  miserable  ;  as,  desertion,  neglect,  prodigality,  drunk- 
ei)ness,  peevishness,  penuriousness,  jealousy,  or  any  levity  of 
conduct  which  may  administer  occasion  of  jealousy. 

A  late  regulation  in  the  law  of  marriages,  in  this  country,  has 
made  the  consent  of  the  father,  if  he  be  living,  of  the  mother,  if 
she  survive  the  father,  and  remain  unmarried,  or  of  guardians, 
if  both  parents  be  dead,  necessary  to  the  marriage  of  a  person 
under  twenty-one  years  of  age.  By  the  Roman  law,  the  con- 
sent et  avi  et  patris  was  required  so  long  as  they  lived.  In 
France,  the  consent  of  parents  is  necessary  to  the  marriage  of 
sons,  until  they  attain  to  thirty  years  of  age  ;  of  daughters,  until 
twenty-five.  In  Holland,  for  sons  till  twenty-five  ;  for  daugh- 
ters, till  twenty.  And  this  distinction  between  the  sexes  ap- 
j)cars  to  be  well  founded  ;  for,  a  woman  is  usually  as  well  qual- 
ified for  the  domestic  and  interior  duties  of  a  wife  or  mother  at 
eighteen,  as  a  man  is  for  the  business  of  the  world,  and  the  more 
arduous  care  of  providing  for  a  family,  at  twenty-one. 

The  constitution  also  of  the  human  species  indicates  the  same 
distijiction.* 


CHAPTER  IX. 

OF  THE  DUTY  OF  PARENTS. 

THAT  virtue,  which  confines  its  beneficence  within  the  walls 
of  a  man's  own  house,  we  have  been  accustomed  to  consider  as 
little  better  than  a  more  refined  selfishness  :  and  yet  it  will  be 
confessed,  that  the  subject  and  matter  of  this  class  of  duties  are 
inferior  to  none  in  utility  and   importance  :  and  where,  it  may 

*  Cum  vis  prolem  procrcandidiiitius  hrereat  in  marc  quira  in  foemina, 
populi  numerus  neqiiaquam  minuetur,  si  serius  veuerem  colere  incepe- 
rint  yiri. 


212  DUTY  OF  PARENTS. 

be  af=kecl,  is  viitue  the  most  valuable,  but  nbero  it  does  ibf  inoil 
good  ?  What  duty  is  tbc  most  obligatory,  but  that  on  which  the 
most  depends  ?    And   where  have  wc   happiness   and   miseiy  so 
much  in  our  power,  or  liable  to  be  so  affected  by  our  conduct, 
as  in  our  own  families  ?    It  will  also  be  acknowledged,  that  the 
good  order  and   happiness  of  the  world  is  better  uplield  whilst 
each   man  applies   himself  to  his  own  concerns  and   the  care  of 
his  own  family,  to  which  he  is  present,  thijn  if  every  man.  from 
an  e.xcess  of  mistaken  generosity,  should  leave  his  own  busines.- 
to  undertake  his  neighbour's,  which  he  nul^t  alwajs  manage  with 
less  knowledge,   conveniency,   and  success.     If,   therefore,  the 
low  estimation  of  these  virtues  be  well  founded,  it  must  be  owing, 
not  to  their  inferior  importance,  but  to  some  defect  or  impurity 
in  the  motive.     And  indeed  it  rannot  be  denied,  but  that  it  is  in 
the  power  of  (issociation  so  to  unite  our  children's  interest  witli 
our  own,  as  that  we  shall  often  pursue  both  from  the  same  motive, 
place  both  in  the  same  object,  and  with  as  little  sense  of  duty  in 
one  pursuit  as  in  the  other.     Where   this   is  the  case,  the  judg- 
ment above  stated  is  not  far  from  the  truth.     And  so  often  as  we 
find  a  solicitous  care  of  a  man's  own  family,   in  a  total  absence 
or  extrenie  penury  of  every  other  virtue,  or  interfering  with 
other  duties,  or  directing  its  operation  solely   to  the  temporal 
hapjiiness  of  the  children,  placing  that  happiness  and  amusement 
in  indulgence  whilst  they  are  young,  or  in  advaiiceisient  of  fortur:© 
when  thev  grow  up,  tlierc  is  reason  to  bel:e\e,   that  this  is  the 
case.     In  this  way,  the  common  opinion  concerning  these  duties 
may  be  accounted  for  and  defen  led.     if  we  look  to  the  sul)ject 
of  them,  we  perceive  them  to  be  indispensable  :   If  we  regard 
the  motive,  we  find  them  often  not  very  meritorious.    Wherefore, 
although  a  man  seldom  rises  high  in  our  esteem  who  has  notliing 
to  recommend  him  besides  the  care  of  his  own  family,  yet  ue 
always  condemn  the  neglect  of  this  duly  with  the  utmost  severe 
jty  ;    both  by  reason  of  the  manifest  and   imiricdiate  miscliief 
which  we  see  arising  from  this  neglect,  and  because  it  argues  a 
want  not  only  of  parental  afTeclion,  but  of  those  moral  prinr.i]iles 


DUTY  OF  PARENTS.  213 

which  ouiiht  to  come  in  aid  of  thai  afFcction  where  it  is  wantincr. 

O  O 

And  ifj  on  the  other  hand,  our  praise  and  esteem  of  these  duties 
be  not  proportioned  to  the  good  they  produce,  or  to  the  indigna- 
tion with  which  wc  resent  the  absence  of  them,  it  is  for  this  rea- 
son, that  virtue^  is  the  most  valuable,  not  where,  in  strictness,  it 
produces  the  most  good,  but  where  it  is  the  most  wanted  :  which 
is  not  the  case  here  ;  because  its  place  is  often  supplied  by  in- 
stincts, or  involuntary  associations.  Nevertheless,  the  oflices  of 
a  parent  may  be  discharged,  from  a  consciousness  of  their  obli- 
gation, as  well  as  other  duties  ;  and  a  sense  of  this  obligation  is 
sometimes  necessary  to  assist  the  siiniulus  of  parental  aflnction  ; 
especially  in  stations  of  life,  ia  which  the  wants  of  a  iamily  can- 
not be  supplied  without  the  co!itinual  hard  labour  of  the  father, 
nor  without  his  refraining  from  many  indulgences  and  recreations 
which  unmarried  men  of  like  condition  are  able  to  purchase. 
Where  the  parental  affection  is  sufficiently  strong,  or  has  fewer 
difficulties  to  surmount,  a  principle  of  dilty  may  still  be  wanted 
to  direct  and  regulate  its  exertions  :  for,  otherwise,  it  is  apt  to 
spend  and  waste  itself  in  a  womanish  fondness  for  the  person  of 
die  child,  and  improvident  attention  to  his  present  ease  and  grn- 
titication  ;  a  pernicious  facility  and  compliance  with  his  humours  ; 
an  excessive  and  superfluous  care  to  provide  the  externals  of  hap- 
piness, with  little  or  no  attention  to  the  internal  sources  of  virtue 
and  satisfaction.  Universally,  wherever  a  parent's  conduct  is 
prompted  or  directed  by  a  sense  of  duty,  there  is  so  much  virtue. 

Having  premised  thus  much  concerning  the  place  which  pa- 
rental duties  hold  in  the  scale  of  human  virtues,  we  proceed  to 
state  and  explain  the  duties  themselves. 

When  moralists  tell  us,  that  parents  are  bound  to  do  all  they 
can  for  tiieir  children,  they  lei!  us  more  than  is  true  ;  for,  at  that 
rate,  every  expense  ^\hich  might  have  been  spared,  and  every 
profit  omitted  which  might  have  been  made,  would  be  criminal. 

The  duty  of  parents  has  its  limits,  like  other  duties  ;  and  ad- 
mits, if  not  of  perfect  precision,  at  least  of  rules  definite  enough 
fur  application. 


214  DUTY  OF  PARENTS. 

These  rules  may  be  explained  under  the  several  heads  of 
maintenance,  education,  and  a  reasonable  provision  for  the  child's 
happiness  in  respect  of  outward  condition. 

I.  Maintenance. 

The  wants  of  children  make  it  necessary  that  some  person 
maintain  them  ;  and,  as  no  one  has  a  right  to  burthen  others  by 
his  act,  it  follows,  that  the  parents  are  bound  to  undertake  this 
charge  themselves.  Beside  this  plain  inference,  the  affection  of 
parents  to  their  children,  if  it  be  instinctive,  and  the  [)rovision 
which  God  has  prepared  in  the  person  of  the  mother  for  the  sus- 
tentation  of  the  infant,  concerning  the  existence  and  design  of 
which  there  can  be  no  doubt,  are  manifest  indications  of  the  Di- 
vine will. 

From  hence  we  learn  the  guilt  of  those  who  run  away  from 
their  families,  or,  (what  is  much  the  same,)  in  consequence  of 
idleness  or  drunkenness,  throw  them  upon  a  parish  ;  or  who  leave 
them  destitute  at  their  death,  when,  by  diligence  and  frugality, 
they  might  have  laid  up  a  provision  for  their  support  :  also  of 
those  who  refuse  or  neglect  the  care  of  their  bastard  offspring, 
abandoning  them  to  a  condition  in  which  they  must  either  perish 
or  become  burthensome  to  others  :  for  the  duty  of  maintenance, 
like  the  reason  upon  which  it  is  founded,  extends  to  bastards,  as 
well  as  to  legitimate  children. 

The  Christian  Scriptures,  although  they  concern  themselves 
little  with  maxims  of  prudence  or  economy,  and  much  less  au- 
thorize worldly-mindedness  or  avarice,  have  yet  declared  in  ex- 
plicit terms  their  judgment  of  the  obligation  of  this  duty  : — "  if 
"  any  provide  not  for  his  own,  especially  for  those  of  his  own 
"  household,  he  hath  denied  the  faith,  and  is  worse  than  an  infi- 
♦'  del,"  1  Tim.  v.  8  ;  he  hath  disgraced  the  Christian  profession, 
and  fallen  short  in  a  duty  which  even  infidels  acknowledge. 

II.  Education. 

Education,  in  the  most  extensive  sense  of  the  word,  may  com- 
prehend every  preparation  that  is  made  in  our  youth  for  the  se- 
quel of  our  lives  ;  and  in  this  sense  1  use  it. 


DUTY  OF  PARENTS.  215 

Some  such  preparation  is  necessary  for  children  of  all  condi- 
tions, because,  without  it,  they  must  be  miserable,  and  probably 
will  be  vicious,  when  they  giow  up,  cither  from  want  of  the 
means  of  subsistence,  or  from  want  of  rational  and  inoffensive  oc- 
cupation. In  civilized  lite,  every  thing  is  efl'ected  by  art  and 
skill.  Whence  a  person  who  is  provided  with  neither  (and  nei- 
ther can  be  acquired  without  exercise  and  instruction)  will  be 
useless  ;  and  he  that  is  useless,  will  generally  be  at  the  same 
time  mischievous  to  the  community.  So  that  to  send  an  unedu- 
cated child  into  the  world  is  injurious  to  the  rest  of  mankind  ;  it 
is  little  better  than  to  turn  out  a  mad  dog  or  a  wild  beast  into 
the  streets. 

In  the  inferior  classes  of  the  community,  this  principle  con- 
demns the  neglect  of  parents,  who  do  not  inure  their  children  be- 
times to  labour  and  restraint,  by  providing  them  with  apprentice- 
ships, services,  or  other  regular  employment,  but  suffer  them  to 
waste  tlieir  youth  in  idleness  and  vagrancy,  or  to  betake  them- 
selves to  some  lazy,  trifling,  and  precarious  calling  :  for,  the 
consequence  of  having  thus  tasted  the  sweets  of  natural  liberty, 
at  an  age  when  their  passion  and  relish  for  it  are  at  the  highest, 
is,  that  they  become  incapable,  for  the  remainder  of  their  lives, 
of  continued  industry,  or  of  persevering  attention  to  any  thing  ; 
spend  their  time  in  a  miserable  struggle  between  the  importunity 
of  want,  and^  the  irksomeness  of  regular  application  ;  and  are 
prepared  to  embrace  every  expedient  which  presents  a  hope  of 
supplying  their  necessities  without  confining  them  to  the  plough, 
the  loom,  the  shop,  or  the  counting-house. 

In  the  middle  orders  of  society,  those  parents  are  most  repre- 
hensible, who  neither  qualify  their  children  for  a  profession,  nor 
enable  them  to  live  without  one  ;*  and  those  in  the  highest,  who, 
from  indulgence,  or  avarice,  omit  to  procure  their  children  those 
liberal  attainments,  which  are  necessary  to  make  them  useful  in 

*  Amongst  the  Athenians,  if  the  parent  did  not  put  his  child  into  a  way 
of  getting  a  livelihood,  the  child  was  not  bound  to  make  provision  for  the 
parent  when  old  and  necessitous. 


216  DUTV  OF  PARENTS. 

the  stations  to  which  they  are  destined.  A  man  ot  lortmii:,  uho- 
permits  his  son  to  consume  the  season  ot  education  in  hiintin/, 
shooting,  or  in  frequenting  horse-races,  assemblies,  or  other  un- 
odilying,  tliough  not  vicious  diversions,  defrauds  the  community 
of  a  benefactor,  and  bequeaths  them  a  nuisance. 

Some,  though  not  the  same,  preparation  for  the  sequel  of  their 
lives,  is  necessary  for  youth  of  every  description  ;  and  therefore 
for  bastards,  as  well  as  for  children  of  better  expectations.  Con- 
sequently they  who  leave  the  education  of  thei^  bastards  to 
chance,  contenting  themselves  with  making  pnjvision  for  their 
subsistence,  desert  half  their  duty. 

HI.  A  reasonable  provision  for  the  happiness  of  a  child,  in  res- 
pect of  outward  condition,  requires  three  things  :  a  situation 
suited  to  his  habits  and  reasonable  expectations  ;  a  competent 
provision  for  the  exigences  of  that  situation  ;  and  a  probable  se- 
curity for  his  virtue. 

The  two  first  articles  will  vary  with  the  condition  of  the  pa- 
rent. A  situation  somewhat  approaching  in  rank  and  condition 
to  the  parent's  own  ;  or,  where  that  is  not  practicable,  similar  to 
what  other  parents  of  like  condition  provide  for  their  children, 
bounds  the  reasonable,  as  well  as  (generally  speaking)  the  actual 
expectations  of  the  child,  and  therefore  contains  the  extent  of  the 
parent's  obligation. 

Hence,  a  peasant  satifies  his  duty  who  sends  out  his  children, 
properly  instructed  for  their  occupation,  to  husbandry,  or  to  any 
branch  of  manufacture.  Clergymen,  lawyers,  ])hysicians,  offi- 
cers in  the  army  or  navy,  gentlemen  possessing  moderate  fortune* 
of  inheritance,  or  exercisjng  trade  in  a  large  or  liberal  way,  are 
required,  by  the  same  rule,  to  provide  their  sdUs  with  learned 
professions,  commissions  in  the  army  or  navy,  places  in  public 
offices,  or  reputable  branches  of  merchandise.  Providing  a  child 
with  a  situation,  includes  a  competent  supply  for  the  expenses 
cf  that  situation,  until  the  profits  of  it  enable  the  child  to  support 
himself.  Noblemen  and  gentlemen  of  high  rank  and  fortune  may 
be  bound  to  transmit  an  inheritance  to  the  representatives  of  their 


DUTY  OF  PARENTS.  ^11 

family,  sufficient  for  their  support  without  the  aid  of  a  trade  oi 
professsion,  to  which  there  is  little  hope  that  a  youth,  who  has 
been  flattered  with  other  expectations,  will  apply  himself  with 
diligence  or  success.  In  these  parts  of  the  world,  public  opinion 
has  assorted  the  members  of  the  community  into  four  or  five  gen- 
eral classes,  each  class  comprising  a  great  variety  of  employ- 
ments and  professions,  the  choice  of  which  must  be  comlfiiitted  to 
the  private  discretion  of  the  parent.*  All  that  can  be  expected 
from  parents  as  a  duty,  and  therefore  the  only  rule  which  a  moral- 
ist can  deliver  upon  the  subject  is,  that  they  endeavour  to  preserve 
ihcir  children  in  the  class  in  which  they  are  born,  that  is  to  say, 

*  The  health  ami  virtue  of  a  child's  future  life  are  fconsiderations  so 
superior  to  all  others,  that  whatever  is  likely  to  have  the  smallest  influ- 
ence upon  these,  deserves  the  parents'  first  attention.  In  respect  of  health, 
agriculture,  and  all  active,  rural,  and  out-of-door  employments,  are  to  be 
preferred  to  manufactures,  and  sedentary  occupations.  In  fespect  of 
virtue,  a  course  of  dealings  in  which  the  advantage  is  miitual,  in  w^liich 
the  profit  on  bne  side  is  connected  with  the  benefit  of  the  other,  (which 
is  the  case  in  trade,  and  all  serviceable  art  or  labour,)  is  more  favourable 
to  the  moral  character,  than  callings  in  which  one  man's  gain  is  another 
man's  loss  ;  in  which  what  you  acquire  is  acquired  without  equivalent, 
and  parted  with  in  distress  ;  as  in  gaming,  and  whatever  partakes  of  ga- 
ming, and  in  the  predatory  profits  of  war.  The  following  distinctions 
also  deserve  notice.  A  business,  like  a  retail  trade,  in  which  the  profits 
are  small  and  frequent,  and  accruing  from  the  employment,  furnishes  a 
moderate  and  constant  engagement  to  the  mind,  and  so  far  suits  better 
with  the  general  disposition  of  mankind,  than  professions  which  are  sup- 
ported by  fixed  salaries,  as  stations  in  the  church,  army,  navy,  revenue, 
public  offices,  &c.  or  wherein  the  profits  are  made  in  large  sums,  by  a  few 
great  coticerns,  or  fortunate  adventures :  as  in  many  branches  of  whole- 
sale and  foreign  merchandise,  in  which  the  occupation  is  neither  constant, 
nor  the  activity  so  kept  alive  by  immediate  encouragement.  For  secu- 
rity, manual  arts  exceed  merchandise,  and  such  as  supply  the  wants  of 
mankind  are  better  than  those  which  minister  to  their  pleasure.  Situa- 
tions which  promise  an  early  settlement  in  marriage,  are,  on  many  ac^ 
counts,  to  be  chosen  before  those  which  rcrniire  a  lonijer  waiting  for  p. 
larger  establishment. 

S8 


:\5  DUTY  OF  PARENTS. 

in  ivhich  otliers  of  similar  expectations  arc  .'iccustomed  lo  ha 
placed  ;  and  that  they  be  careful  to  confine  tlicir  hopes  and  hab- 
ils  of  indulgence  to  objects  which  will  conthiuc  to  be  attainable. 
It  is  an  ill-judged  thrift,  in  sonic  rich  i)arents,  to  bring  up 
their  sons  to  mean  einploymcnts,  for  the  sake  of  saving  the  charge 
of  a  more  expensive  education  :  tor  these  sons,  when  they  be- 
come masters  of  their  liberty  and  fortune,  will  hardly  continue 
in  occupations  by  which  Uiey  think  themselves  degraded,  and 
are  seldom  qualified  for  any  thing  better. 

An  attention,  in  the  first  place,  to  the  exigences  of  the  chil- 
dren's respective  conditions  in  the  world  ;  and  a  regard,  in  the 
second  place,  to  their  reasonable  expectations,  always  postponing 
the  expectations  to  the  exigences  when  both  cannot  be  satisfied, 
ought  to  guide  parents  in  the  disposal  of  their  lortunes  after  their 
death.  And  these  exigences  and  expectations  must  be  measured 
by  the  standard  which  custom  has  established  ;  for  there  is  a 
certain  apearance,  attendance,  establishment,  and  mode  of  living, 
which  custom  has  annexed  to  the  several  ranks  and  oitlers  of  civil 
life,  (and  which  compose  what  is  called  decency.^  together  with 
a  certain  society,  and  particular  pleasures  belonging  to  each 
class  :  and  a  young  person,  who  is  withheld  from  sharing  in  these 
by  want  of  Ibrtune,  can  scarcely  be  said  to  have  a  fair  chance 
for  happine^s  ;  the  indignity  and  mortification  of  such  a  seclusion 
being  what  (q\w  tempers  can  l)ear,  or  bear  with  contentment. 
And  as  to  the  second  consideration,  of  what  a  child  may  reason- 
ably expect  I'rom  his  parent,  he  will  expect  what  he  sees  all  or 
most  others  in  similar  circumstances  receive  ;  and  we  can  hardly 
call  expectations  unreasonable  which  it  is  impossible  to  suppress. 

By  virtue  of  this  rule,  a  parent  is  justrfied  in  making  a  differ- 
ence between  his  childven,  according  as  they  stand  in  greater  or 
less  need  of  the  assistance  of  his  fortune,  in  consequence  of  Uie 
dili'erence  of  their  age  or  sex,  or  of  the  situations  in  which  they 
are  placed,  or  the  various  success  which  they  have  met  with. 

On  account  of  the  few  lucrative  employments  which  arc  left 
to  the  female  sex,  and  by  consequence  the  little  opportunity  they 


DUTY  OF  PARENTS.  213 

hnve  of  rukling  to  their  income,  daughters  ought  to  be  the  par- 
ticular objects  of  a  parent's  care  and  foresight  ;  and  as  an  option 
of  marriage,  from  which  they  can  reasonably  expect  happiness, 
is  not  presented  to  every  woman  who  deserves  it,  especially  in 
the  present  times,  in  which  a  licentious  celibacy  seems  to  have 
grown  into  fashion  with  the  men,  a  father  should  endeavour  to 
enable  his  daughters  to  lead  a  single  life  with  independency  and 
decorum,  even  though  he  subtract  more  for  that  purpose  tVom 
the  ])ortio!)S  oi  his  sons  than  is  agreeable  to  modern  usage,  or  than 
they  expect. 

But  vvlK-n  the  exigences  of  their  several  situations  are  provided 
ll)r,  and  not  before,  a  parent  ought  to  admit  the  second  conside- 
ration, the  satisfaction  of  his  children's  expectations  :  and  upon 
iijat  principle  to  prefer  the  eldest  son  to  the  rest,  and  sons  to 
daughters  ;  which  constitutes  the  right,  and  the  whole  right,  of 
jjrimogeniture,  as  well  as  the  only  reason  for  the  preference  oi 
one  sex  to  the  other.  The  preference,  indeed,  of  the  fust-born 
lias  dne  public  good  effect,  that  if  the  estate  were  divided  equal- 
ly amongst  the  sons,  it  would  probably  make  them  all  idle  ; 
Tvhcreas,  by  itu;  present  rule  of  descent,  it  makes  only  one  so  •, 
which  is  the  less  evil  of  the  two.  And  it  must  farther  be  obser- 
ved, on  the  part  of  sons,  that  if  the  rest  of  the  community  make 
it  a  rule  to  prefer  sons  to  daughters,  an  individual  of  that  com- 
munity ought  to  guide  himself  by  the  same  rule  upon  principles 
of  mere  equality.  For,  as  the  son  suffers  by  the  rule  in  the  for- 
tune he  may  expect  in  marriage,  it  is  but  reasonable  that  he 
should  receive  the  advantage  of  it  in  his  own  inheritance.  In- 
deed, whatever  the  rule  be,  as  to  the  pretereiice  of  one  sex  to 
tiiv<^  other,  marriage  restores  the  ecjuality.  And  as  monej'  is  ge- 
nerally more  convertible  to  profit,  and  more  likely  \o  promote 
industry,  in  (he  hands  of  men  than  of  women,  the  custom  of  this 
■country,  may  properly  be  complied  with,  when  it  does  not  in- 
terfere with  the  weightier  reason  explained  in  the  last  paragraph. 

The  point  of  t!ie  children's  actual  expectations,  together  with 
ffhc  expediency  of  •jubjectin'^r  the  illicit  rommcrro  of  1]\v.  ?o.kq«  1© 


s'20  DUTY  OF  PARENTS. 

every  discouragement  which  it  can  receive,  makes  the  diflerencc 
between  the  claims  of  legitimate  children  and  of  bastards.  But 
neither  reason  will  in  any  case  justify  the  leaving  of  bastards  to 
the  world,  without  provision,  education,  or  profession  ;  or,  what 
is  more  cruel,  without  the  means  of  continuing  in  the  situation  to 
which  the  parent  has  introduced  them  ;  which  last  is,' to  leave 
them  to  inevitable  misery. 

At'ter  the  first  re(]uisite,  namely,  a  provision  for  the  exigences 
of  his  situation,  is  satisfied,  a  parent  may  dijriinish  a  child':i 
portion,  in  order  to  punish  any  flagrant  crime,  or  to  punish  con- 
tumacy and  want  of  filial  duty  in  instances  not  otherwise  crimi- 
nal ;  for  a  child  who  is  conscious  of  bad  behaviour,  or  of  con* 
tempt  of  his  parent's  will  and  happiness,  cannot  reasonably  ex-; 
pect  the  same  instances  of  his  munificence. 

A  child's  vices  may  be  of  that  sort,  and  his  vicious  habits  so 
incorrigible,  as  to  afford  much  the  same  reason  for  believing  that 
he  will  waste  or  mis-employ  the  fortune  put  into  his  j)ovver,  as  if 
he  were  mad  or  idiotish,  in  which  case  a  parent  may  treat  him  aa 
a  madman  or  an  idiot  ;  that  is,  niay  deem  it  sufficient  to  provide 
for  his  support,  by  an  annuity  equal  to  his  wants  and  innocent 
enjoyments,  and  which  he  may  be  restrained  from  alienating. 
This  seems  to  be  the  only  case  in  which  a  disinherison,  nearly 
absolute,  is  justifiable. 

Let  not  a  father  hope  to  excuse  an  inofficious  disposition  of  hia 
fortune,  by  alleging,  that  "  every  man  may  do  what  he  will  with 
"  his  ovyn."  All  the  truth  which  this  expression  contains  is,  that 
his  discretion  is  under  no  control  of  law  ;  and  that  his  will,  how- 
ever capricious,  will  be  valid.  This  by  no  means  absolves  his 
conscience  from  the  obligations  of  a  parent,  or  imports  that  he 
may  neglect,  without  injustice,  the  several  wants  and  expecta- 
tions of  his  family,  in  order  to  gratify  a  whim  or  a  pique,  or  in- 
dulge a  preference  founded  in  np  reasonable  distinction  of  merit 
and  situation.  Although  in  his  intercourse  with  his  family,  am; 
the  lesser  endearments  of  domestic  life,  a  parent  may  not  ahvay- 
resist  bis  partiality  to  a  favourite  child  ;  (which,  hrrrevcr,  shoul'' 


I 


DUTY  OF  PATIENTS,  22} 

be  both  avoided  and  concealed,  as  oftentimes  productive  of  last- 
ing jealousies  and  discontents  ;)  yet.  when  he  sits  down  to  make 
his  will,  these  tendernesses  must  give  place  to  more  manly  de- 
liberations. 

A  father  of  a  family  is  bound  to  adjust  his  economy  with  9. 
view  to  these  demands  upon  his  fortune  ;  and  until  a  sufficiency 
for  these  ends  is  acquired,  or  in  due  time  probably  will  be  ac- 
quired, (for,  in  human  affairs,  probability  is  enough,)  frugality 
and  exertions  of  industry  are  duties.  He  is  also  justified  in  de- 
clining expensive  liberality  ;  for,  to  take  from  those  who  vi^ant, 
in  order  to  give  to  those  who  want,  adds  nothing  to  the  stock  of 
public  happiness.  Thus  far,  therefore,  and  no  farther,  the  plea 
of  "  children,"  of  "  large  families,"  "  charity  begins  at  home," 
&c.  is  an  excuse  for  parsimony,  and  an  answer  to  those  who  so- 
licit our  boqnty.  Beyond  this  point,  as  the  use  of  riches  be- 
comes less,  the  desire  of  laying  up  should  abate  proportionably, 
The  truth  is,  our  children  gain  not  so  much  as  we  imagine,  in 
the  chance  of  this  wqi'ld's  happiness,  or  even  of  its  external  pros- 
perity, by  setting  out  in  it  with  large  capitals.  Of  those  who 
die  rich,  a  great  part  began  with  little.  And,  in  respect  of  en- 
joyment, there  is  no  comparison  between  a  fortune  which  a  man 
acquires  himself  by  a  fruitful  industry,  or  a  series  of  successes 
in  his  business,  and  one  found  in  his  possession,  or  received  fronc} 
another. 

A  principal  part  of  the  parent's  duty  is  still  behind,  viz.  the 
using  of  proper  precautions  and  expedients,  in  order  to  form  and 
preserve  his  children's  virtue. 

To  us,  who  believe  that,  in  one  stage  or  other  of  our  exist- 
ence, virtue  will  conduct  to  happiness,  and  vice  terminate  in  mis- 
ery ;  and  who  observe  withal  that  men's  virtues  and  vices  are, 
to  a  certain  degree,  produced  or  afifected  by  the  management  of 
their  youth,  and  the  situations  in  which  they  are  placed  ;  to  all 
who  attend  to  these  reasons,  the  obligation  to  consult  a  child's 
virtue  will  appear  to  differ  in  nothing  from  that  by  which  the  pa- 
rent is  bound  to  provide  for  his  maintenance  or  fortune.     The 


m  DUTY  OF  PARENTS. 

child's  interest  is  concerned  in  the  one  means  of  happiness  a- 
well  as  in  the  other ;  and  both  means  are  equally,  and  almost 
exclusively,  in  the  parent's  power. 

The  first  \)o'\nl  to  be  oniloavored  after  is,  to  impress  upon  chil- 
dren the  idea  of  accovntublcncss,  that  is,  to  accustom  them  to 
look  forward  to  the  consequences  of  their  actions  in  another 
ivorld  ;  which  can  only  be  brought  about  by  the  parents  visibly 
acting  with  a  view  to  these  consequences  thnmselves.  Parents, 
to  do  them  justice,  are  seldom  sparing  in  lessons  of  virtue  and 
religion  ;  in  admonitions  which  cost  little,  and  profitless  ;  whilst 
their  example  exhibits  a  continual  contradiction  of  what  they 
teach.  A  father,  for  instance,  will,  with  much  solenmity  and 
apparent  earnestness,  warn  his  son  against  idleness,  excess  in 
drinkin;';,  debauchery,  and  extravagance,  who  himself  loiters 
sbout  all  day  wiliiout  employment ;  comes  home  every  night 
drunk  ;  is  made  infamous  in  his  neighbourhood  by  some  proili- 
gate  connexions  ;  and  wastes  the  fortune  which  should  supjioil 
or  remain  a  provision  for  his  family,  in  riot,  or  luxury,  or  osten- 
tation. Or  be  will  discourse  gravely  before  his  children  of  the 
obligation  and  importance  of  revealed  religion,  whilst  they  see 
the  most  frivolous,  and  oftentimes  feigned  excuses  detain  bin; 
from  its  reasonable  and  solemn  ordinances.  Or  he  will  set  be- 
fore them,  perhaps,  the  supreme  and  tremendous  authority  of 
Almighty  God  ;  that  such  a  Being  ought  not  to  be  named,  or 
even  thought  upon,  without  sentiments  of  profound  awe  and  ven- 
eration. This  may  be  the  lecture  he  delivers  to  his  family  one 
hour  ;  when  the  next,  if  an  occasion  arise  to  excite  his  anger,  his 
mirth,  or  his  surprise,  they  will  hear  him  treat  the  name  of  the 
Deity  with  the  most  irreverent  profanation,  and  sport  with  the 
terms  and  denunciations  of  the  Christian  religion,  as  if  they  were 
the  language  of  some  ridiculous  and  long-exploded  sui)erstition. 
Now,  even  a  child  is  not  to  be  in:»posed  upon  by  such  mockery. 
!Ie  sees  through  the  grimace  of  this  counterfeited  concern  for 
virtue.  He  discovers  that  bis  parent  is  acting  a  part  ;  and  rc- 
feivc^  his  admonitions  as  he  Vvoiild  hear  the  same  maxims  from 


DUTY  OF  PARENTS.  ^  223 

the  mouth  of  a  player.  And  when  once  this  opinion  has  taken 
possession  o(  the  chihl's  mind,  it  has  a  fatal  effect  upon  the  pa- 
rent's inlhience  in  al!  subjects  ;  even  in  those,  in  which  he  him- 
self may  be  sincere  and  convinced.  Vvhereas  a  silent,  but  ob- 
servable regard  to  the  duties  of  religion,  in  the  parent's  own  be- 
haviour, will  lake  a  sure  and  gradual  hold  of  the  child's  disposi- 
tion, much  beyond  formal  reproofs  and  chidings,  which,  being 
generally  prompted  by  some  present  provocation,  discover  more 
of  anger  than  of  principle,  and  are  always  received  with  a  tem- 
poraiy  alienation  and  disgust. 

A  good  parent's  first  care  is,  to  be  virtuous  himself;  his  se- 
cond, to  make  his  virtues  as  easy  afld  engag.ing  to  those  about 
bini  as  their  nature  Avill  atlsnlt.  V'irtue  itself  offends,  when  coup- 
led with  forbidding  manners.  And  some  virtues  may  be  urged 
to  such  excess,  or  brought  forward  so  unseasonably,  as  to  dis- 
courage and  repel  those  who  observe  and  ^vho  are  acted  upon  by 
them,  instead  of  exciting  an  inclination  to  imitate  and  adopt 
them.  Young  minds  are  particularly  liable  to  these  unfortunate 
impressions.  For  instance,  if  a  father's  economy  degenerate  in- 
to a  minute  and  teasing  parsimony,  it  is  odds  but  that  the  son, 
who  has  suffered  under  it,  set  out  a  sworn  enemy  to  all  rules  of 
order  and  frugality.  If  a  father's  piety  be  morose,  rigorous,  and 
tinged  with  melancholy,  perpetually  breaking  in  upon  the  recre- 
ations of  his  tamily,  and  surfeiting  them  with  the  language  of  re- 
ligion upon  all  occasions,  theie  is  danger  lest  the  son  carry  from 
home  with  him  a  settled  prejudice  against  seriousness  and  reli- 
gion, as  inconsistent  with  every  plan  of  a  pleasurable  life.;  and 
turn  out,  when  he  mixes  with  the  world,  a  character  of  levity  o;* 
dissoluteness. 

Something  likewise  may  be  done  towards  the  corrcclnig  oj' 
impioving  of  those  early  inclinations  which  children  disoo'-er, 
by  disposing  them  into  situaiioMs  the  least  dangerous^  to  their 
particular  characters.  Thus,  i  would  make  choice  of  a  retired 
life  for  young  p':>rsons  addicted  to  iiceulious  pleasures  ;  of  pri- 
yate  stations  for  the  proud  and  passionate  ;  of  liberal  professions, 


^24  tUGIlTS  OF  PARENTS. 

and  a  town  life,  for  the  mercenary  and  sottish  ;  and  not,  accor 
ding  to  the  general  practice  of  parents,  send  dissolute  youths  in- 
to the  army  ;  penurious  tempers  to  trade  ;  or  make  a  crafty  lad 
an  attorney  ;  or  flatter  a  vain  and  haughty  temper  with  elevated 
names,  or  situations,  or  callings,  to  which  the  fashion  of  the 
world  has  annexed  precedency  and  distinction,  but  in  which  his 
disposition,  without  at  all  promoting  his  success,  will  serve  both 
to  multiply  and  exasperate  his  disappointments.  In  the  same 
■way,  that  is,  with  a  view  to  the  particular  frame  and  tendency 
of  the^  pupil's  character,  I  would  make  choice  of  a  public  or  pri- 
vate education.  The  reserved,  timid,  and  indolent,  will  have 
their  faculties  called  forth  and  their  nerves  invigorated  by  a  pub- 
lic education.  Youths  of  strong  spirits  and  passions  will  be  safer 
in  a  private  education.  At  our  public  schools,  as  far  as  I  have 
observed,  more  literature  is  acquired,  and  more  vice  ;  quick 
parts  are  cultivated,  siovv  ones  are  neglected.  Under  private 
tuition,  a  moderate  proficiency  in  juvenile  learning  is  seldoiri 
exceeded,  but  oftener  attained. 


m 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  RIGHTS  OF  PARENTS. 


THE  Rights  of  Parents  result  from  their  duties.  If  it  be  the 
duty  of  a  parent  to  educate  his  children,  to  form  them  for  a  life 
of  usefulness  and  virtue,  to  provide  for  them  situations  needful 
for  their  subsistence  and  suited  to  their  circumstances,  and  to 
prepare  them  for  those  situations  ;  he  has  a  right  to  such  author- 
ity, and  in  support  of  that  authority  to  exercise  such  disipline, 
as  may  be  necessary  for  these  purposes.  The  law  of  nature  ac- 
knowledges no  other  foundation  of  a  parent's  right  over  his  chil- 
dren, beside  his  duty  towards  them  ;  (I  speak  now  of  such  rights 
as  may  be  enforced  by  coercion.)     This  relation  confers  no' 


RlGtlTS  OF  PARENTS.  22£i 

jproperty  in  their  persoiiSj  or  natural  dominion  orer  tliera,  as   is 
Commonly  supposed. 

Since  it  is,  in  general,  necessary  to  determine  the  destination 
of  children,  before  they  are  capable  of  judging  of  their  own 
happiness,  parents  have  a  right  to  elect  professions  for  them. 

As  the  mother  herself  owes  obedience  to  the  father,  her  author- 
ity must  submit  to  his.  In  a  competition,  therefore,  of  commands, 
the  father  is  to  be  oboyed.  In  case  of  the  death  of  either,  the 
authority,  as  well  as  duty  of  both  parents,  devolves  upon  the 
survivoro 

These  rights  always  following  the  duty,  belong  likewise  to 
guardians  ;  and  so  much  of  them  as  is  delegated  by  the  parents 
5r  guardians  belongs  to  tutors,  schoolmasters,  See. 

From  this  principle,  "that  the  rights  of  parents  result  from 
"their  duty,"  it  follows,  (hat  parents  have  no  natural  right  over 
the  lives  of  their  children,  as  was  absurdly  allowed  to  Roman 
fathers  ;  nor  anV  to  exercise  unprofitable  severities  ;  nor  to  com- 
mand the  comission  of  crimes  :  for  these  rights  can  never  be 
wanted  for  the  purposes  of  a  parent's  duty. 

Nor,  for  the  same  reason,  have  parents  any  right  to  sell  their 
children  into  slavery*  Upon  which,  by  the  way,  we  may  ob- 
serve, that  the  children  of  slaves  are  not,  by  the  law  of  nature, 
born  slaves  ;  for,  as  the  master's  right  is  derived  to  him  through 
the  parent,  it  can  never  be  greater  than  the  parent's  own. 

Hence  also  it  appears,  that  parents  not  only  pervert,  but  ex- 
ceed, their  just  authority,  when  they  consult  their  own  ambi- 
tion, interest,  or  prcji/idice,  at  the  manifest  expense  of  their 
children's  happiness.  Of  which  abuse  of  parental  power,  the 
following  are  instances  :  the  shutting  up  of  daughters  and  young- 
er sons  in  nunneries  and  monasteries,  in  order  to  preserve  en- 
tire the  estate  and  dignity  of  the  family  ;  or  the  using  of  any 
arts,  either  of  kindness  or  unkindness,  to  induce  them  to 
make  choice  of  this  way  of  life  themselves  ;  or,  in  countries 
where  the  clergy  are  prohibited  from  marriage,  putting  .sons 
into  the  church  for  the  same  end,  who  are  never  likely  either  tc 
•         29 


t 


22G  DUTY  OF  CHILDREN. 

do  or  receive  any  good  in  it  sufficient  to  compensate  for  this 
sacrifice  ;  the  urging  of  children  to  marriages  from  vvhicli  they 
arc  averse,  with  the  view  of  exalting  or  enriching  the  family, 
or  for  the  sake  of  connecting  estates,  parties,  or  interests  ;  or 
the  opposing  of  a  marriage,  in  which  the  child  would  probably 
find  his  happiness,  from  a  motive  of  pride  or  avarice,  of  family 
hostility,  or  personal  pique. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE  DUTY  OF  CHILDREN. 

THE  Duty  of  Children  may  be  considered, 

I.  During  childhood. 

II.  After  they  have  attained  to  manhood,  but  continue  ia 
their  father's  family. 

III.  After  they  have  attained  to  manhood,  and  have  left  their 
father's  family. 

I.  During  Childhood. 

Children  must  be  supposed  to  have  attained  to  some  degree 
of  discretion  before  they  are  capable  of  any  duty.  There  is 
an  interval  of  eight  or  nine  years  between  the  dawning  and  the 
maturity  of  reason,  in  which  it  is  necessary  to  subject  the  incli- 
nation of  children  to  many  restraints,  and  direct  their  applica- 
tion to  many  employments,  of  the  tendency  and  use  of  which 
they  cannot  judge  ;  for  which  cause,  the  submission  of  children 
during  this  period  must  be  ready  and  implicit,  with  an  excep- 
tion, however,  of  an}'  manifest  crime  which  may  be  commanded 
them. 

II.  ^fter  they  have  attained  to  manhood,  but  continue  in 
their  father''  s  family . 

If  children,  when  they  are  grown  up,  voluntarily  continue 
meiEbcrs  of  their  father's  family,  they  are  bound,  beside  the 


DUTY  OF  CHILDREN.  227 

general  duty  of  gratitude  to  their  parents,  to  observe  such  regu- 
lations of  the  family  as  the  father  shall  appoint ;  contribute 
their  labour  to  its  support,  if  required  ;  and  confine  themselves 
to  such  expenses  as  he  shall  allow.  The  obligation  would  be 
the  same  if  they  were  admitted  into  any  other  family,  or  re- 
ceived support  from  any  other  hand. 

lU.  After  they  have  attained  to  manhood,  and  have  left  their 
father'' s  family. 

In  this  state  of  the  relation,  the  duty  to  parents  is  simply  tha 
duty  of  gratitude  ;  not  different  in  kind  from  that  which  we  owe 
to  any  other  benefactor  ;  in  degree,  just  so  much  exceeding  oth- 
er obligations,  by  how  much  a  parent  has  been  a  greater  bene- 
factor than  any  other  friend.  The  services  and  attentions  by 
v/hich  filial  gratitude  may  be  ^testified,  can  -be  comprised  with- 
in no  enumeration.  It  will  show  itself  in  compliances  with  the 
will  of  the  parents,  however  contrary  to  the  child's  own  taste  or 
judgment,  provided  it  be  neither  criminal,  nor  totally  inconsist- 
ent with  his  happiness  ;  in  a  constant  endeavour  to  promote  their 
enjoyments,  prevent  their  wishes,  and  soften  their  anxieties,  in 
small  matters  as  well  as  in  great  ;  in  assisting  them  in  their  busi- 
ness ;  in  contributing  to  their  support,  ease,  or  better  accommo- 
dation, when  their  circumstances  require  it :  in  affording  them 
our  company,  in  preference  to  more  amusing  engagements  ;  in 
waiting  upon  their  sickness  or  decrepitude  ;  in  bearing  with  the 
infirmities  of  their  health  or  temper,  with  the  peevishness  and 
complaints,  the  unfashionable,  negligent,  austere  manners,  and 
offensive  habits,  v/hich  often  attend  upon  advanced  years  ;  for, 
where  must  old  age  find  indulgence,  if  it  do  not  meet  with  it  in 
the  piety  and  partiality  of  children  ? 

The  most  serious  contentions  between  parents  and  their  chil- 
dren, are  those  commonly  which  relate  to  marriage,  or  to  the 
choice  of  a  profession. 

A  parent  has,  in  no  case,  a  right  to  destroy  his  child's  happi- 
ness. If  it  be  true,  therefore,  that  there  exist  such  personal  nnd 
exclusive  attachments  between  individuals  of  different  sexes,  thaf. 


228  DUTY  OF  CHILDREN. 

the  possession  of  a  particular  man  ©r  woman  in  marriage  be  real- 
ly necessary  to  the  child's  happiness  ;  or,  if  it  be  true,  that  an 
aversion  to  a  particular  profession  may  be  involuntary  and  un- 
fconquerable  ;  then  it  will  follow,  that  parents,  where  this  is  the 
case,  ought  not  to  urge  their  authority,  and  that  the  child  is  not 
bound  to  obey  it. 
-  The  point  is,  to  discover  how  far,  in  any  particular  instance, 
this  is  the  case.     Whether  the  fondness  of  lovers  ever  continues 
with  such  intensity,  and  so  long,  that  the  success  of  their  desires 
constitutes,  or  the  disappointment  affects,  any  considerable  por- 
tion of  their  happiness,  compared  with  that  of  their  whole  life,  it 
is  difficult  to  determine  ;  but  there  can  be  no  difficulty  in  pro- 
nouncing, that  not  one  half  of  those  attachmentc,  which  young 
people  conceive  with  so  much  haste  and  passion,  are  of  this  sort. 
I  believe  it  also  to  be  true,  that  there  are  few  aversions  to  a  pro- 
fession, which  resolution,  perseverance,  activity  in  going  about 
the  duty  of  it,  and,  above  all,  despair  of  changing,  will  not  sub- 
due ;  yet  there  are  some  such.     Wherefore,  a  child  who  re- 
spects his  parent's  judgment,  and  is,  as  he  ought  to  be,  tender  of 
his  happiness,  owes,  at  least,  so  much  deference  to  his  will,  as  to 
try  fairly  and  faithfully,  in  one  rase,  whether  time  and  absence 
will  not  quench  his  afl'ection  ;  and,  in  the  other,  whether  a  long- 
er continuance  in  His  profession  may  not  reconcile   him  to  it, 
The  whote   depends  ,  upon  the  experiment   being  made   on  the 
child's  part  with  sincerity,  and  not  merely  with  a  design  of  com- 
passing his  purpose  at  last,  by  means  of  a  simulated  and  tempor 
rary  compliance.     It  is  the  nature  of  love  and  hatred,  and  of  all 
violent  affections,  to  delude  the  mind  with  a  persuasion  that  we 
fhall  always  continue  to  feel  them  as  we  feel  them  at  present  j 
we  cannot  conceive  that  they  will  either  change  or  cease.     Ex- 
perience of  similar  or  greater  changes  io  ourselves,  or  a  habit  of 
giving  credit  to  what  opr  parents,  or  tutors,  or  books  teach  us, 
iitjpnay  control  this  persuasion,  otherwise  it  renders  youth  very  un- 
jraclable  ;  for  they  see  clearly  and  truly  that  it  is  impossible 
jfipy  sbonlil  Ijr  happy  undp r  the  circumstances  propps(?d  to  them^ 


DUTY  OF  CHILDREN.  229 

ifl  their- present  state  of  raind.  After  a  sincere  but  ineffectual 
endeavour,  by  the  child,  to  accommodate  h'is  inclination  to  his 
parent's  pleasure,  he  ought  not  to  suffer  in  his  parent's  affection, 
or  in  his  fortunes.  The  parent,  when  he  has  reasonable  proof  of 
this,  should  acquiesce  ;  at  all  events,  the  child  is  then  at  liberty 
to  provide  for  his  own  happiness. 

Parents  have  no  right  to  urge  their  children  upon  marriages  to 
ivhich  they  are  averse  ;  nor  ought,  in  any  shape,  to  resent  the 
children's  disobedience  to  such  commands.  This  is  a  different 
case  from  opposing  a  match  of  inclination,  because  the  child's 
misery  is  a  much  more  probable  consequence  ;  it  being  easier 
to  live  without  a  person  that  we  love,  than  with  one  whom  we 
hate.  Add  to  this,  that  compulsion  in  marriage  necessarily  leads 
to  prevarication  ;  as  the  reluctant  party  promises  an  affection, 
which  neither  exists,  nor  is  expected  to  take  place  ;  and  parens 
tal,  like  all  human  authority,  ceases,  at  the  point  where  obedi- 
ence becomes  criminal. 

In  the  above-mentioned,  and  in  all  contests  between  parents 
and  children,  it  is  the  parent's  duty  to  represent  to  the  child  the 
consequences  of  his  conduct ;  and  it  will  be  found  his  best  poli- 
cy to  represent  them  with  fidelity.  It  is  usual  for  parents  to  ex- 
aggerate these  descriptions  beyond  probability,  and  by  exagger^ 
ation  to  lose  all  credit  with  their  children  ;  thus,  in  a  great  meas= 
ure,  defeating  their  own  end. 

Parents  are  forbidden  to  interfere  where  a  trust  is  reposed  per^ 
tonally  in  the  son,  and  where,  consequently  the  son  was  expect-? 
ed,  and  by  virtue  of  that  expectation,  is  obliged  to  pursue  his 
own  judgment,  and  not  that  of  any  other  ;  as  is  the  case  with  juv 
dicial  magistrates  in  the  execution  of  their  office  ;  with  members 
jof  the  legislature  in  their  votes  ;  with  electors,  where  preference 
is  to  be  given  to  certain  prescribed  qualifications.  The  son  may 
assist  his  own  judgment  by  the  advice  of  his  father,  or  of  any 
vvhom  he  chooses  to  consult  ;  but  his  own  judgment,  whether  rt>j. 
proceed  upon  knowledge  or  authority,  ought  finally  to  detenninft  '^^ 
hjs  conduct; 


230  DUTY  OF  CHILDREN. 


il 


The  duty  of  children  to  their  parents  was  thought  worthy  to 
be  made  the  subject  of  one  of  the  Ten  Commandments  ;  and,  as 
such,  is  recognized  by  Christ,  together  with  the  rest  of  the  mor- 
al precepts  of  the  Decalogue,  in  various  places  of  the  Gospel. 

The  same  divine  Teacher's  sentiments  concerning  the  relief  of 
indigent  parents,  appear  sufficiently  from  that  manly  and  deser- 
ved indignation  with  which  he  reprehended  the  wretched  casuis- 
try of  the  Jewish  expositors,  who,  under  the  name  o!"  a  tradition, 
had  contrived  a  method  of  evading  this  duty,  by  converting,  or 
pretending  to  convert,  to  the  treasury  of  the  temple,  so  much  of 
their  property  as  their  distressed  parent  might  be  entitled  by 
their  law  to  demand. 

Agreeably  to  this  law  of  Nature  and  Christianity,  children  are, 
by  the  law  of  England,  bound  to  support,  as  well  their  immedi- 
ate parents,  as  their  grandfather  and  grandmother,  or  remoter  an- 
cestors, who  stand  in  need  of  support. 

Obedience  to  parents  is  enjoined  by  St.  Paul  to  the  Ephesians  : 
"  Children,  obey  your  parents  in  the  Lord,  for  this  is  right ;" 
and  to  the  Colossians  :  "  Children,  obey  your  parents  in  all 
"things,  for  this  is  well  pleasing  unto  the  Lord."* 

By  the  Jewish  law,  disobedience  to  parents  was  in  some  ex- 
treme cases  capital  ;  Deut.  xxi,  18. 

*  Upon  which  two  phrases,  "  this  is  right,"  and  "  for  this  is  well  pleas- 
ing onto  the  Lord,"  being  used  by  St.  Paul  in  a  sense  perfectly  parallel, 
•we  may  observe,  that  moral  rectitude,  and  couformity  to  the  Divine  will, 
were,  in  his  appreheaaion,  the  same. 

% 


■^ 


BOOK  lY. 


DUTIES  TO  OURSELVES. 

THIS  division  of  the  subject  is  merely  for  the  sske  of  method, 
by  which  the  writer  and  the  reader  are  equally  assisted.  To 
the  subject  itself  it  imports  nothing  ;  for,  the  obligation  of  all  du- 
tties  being  fundamentally  the  same,  it  matters  little  under  what 
class  or  title  any  of  them  are  considered.  In  strictness,  there 
are  (ew  duties  or  crimes  which  terminate  in  a  man's  self ;  and  so 
far  as  other's  are  alfected  by  their  operation,  they  have  been 
treated  of  in  some  article  of  the  preceding  book.  We  have  re- 
served to  this  head  the  rights  of  self-defence  ;  also  the  consider- 
ation oi  drunkenness  and  suicide,  as  offences  against  that  care  of 
our  faculties,  and  preservation  of  our  persons,  which  we  account 
duties,  and  call  duties  to  ourselves. 


CHAPTER  I, 

THE  RIGHTS  OF  SELF-DEFENCE. 

IT  has  been  asserted,  that  in  a  slate  of  nature  Ave  might  law- 
fully defend  the  most  insignificant  right,  provided  it  were  a  per- 
fect determinate  right,  by  any  extremities  which  the  obstinacy 
of  the  aggressor  made  necessary.  Of  this  I  doubt ;  because  I 
doubt  whether  the  general  rule  be  worth  sustaining  at  such  an  ex- 
pense ;  and  because,  apart  from  the  general  consequence  of  yield- 


2jli  RICH  I'S  OF  feKLF-bEPENCfi. 

ing  to  tlie  attcinpt,  it  caiinut  be  contendf-cl  to  l^e  for  the  aiigmertf-* 
ation  of  Iiuiwnn  liajtpiiiess,  that  one  man  should  lose  his  life,  or  d 
limb,  rather  than  another  a  pennyworth  of  his  property.  Never- 
theless, perfect  rights  can  only  be  distinguished  by  their  value  ; 
and  it  is  impossible  to  ascertain  the  value  at  which  the  liberty  of 
using  extreme  violence  begins.  The  person  attacked  must  bal- 
ance, as  well  as  he  can,  between  the  general  consequence  of" 
yielding,  and  the  particular  efioct  of  resistance. 

However,  this  right,  if  it  exist  in  a  state  of  nature,  is  suspend- 
ed by  the  establishment  of  civil  society  ;  because  thereby  other 
remedies  are  provided  against  attacks  upon  our  property,  and 
because  it  is  necessary  to  the  peace  and  safety  of  the  communi- 
ty, that  the  prevention,  punishment,  and  redress  of  injuries,  h& 
adjusted  by  public  laws.  Moreover,  as  the  individual  is  assist- 
ed in  the  recovery  of  his  right,  or  of  a  compensation  for  it,  by 
the  public  strength,  it  is  no  less  equitable  than  expedient,  that 
he  should  submit  to  public  arbitratii)n  the  manner,  as  Vvell  as  the 
measure,  of  the  satisfaction  which  he  is  to  obtain. 

There  is  one  case  in  which  all  extremities  are  justifiable  ; 
namely,  when  our  life  is  assaulted,  and  it  becomes  necessary  for 
our  preservation  to  kill  the  assailant.  This  is  evident  in  a  state 
of  nature  ;  unless  it  can  be  shown,  that  we  are  bound  to  prefer 
the  aggressor's  life  to  our  own,  that  is  to  say,  to  love  our  enemy 
better  than  ourselves,  vvliich  can  never  be  a  debt  of  justice,  nor 
any  where  appears  to  be  a  duty  of  ciiarity.  Nor  is  the  case  al- 
tered by  our  living  in  civil  society  ;  because,  bv  the  supposition, 
the  laws  of  society  cannot  interpose  to  protect  us,  nor,  by  the 
nature  of  the  case,  compel  restitution.  This  liberty  is  restrained 
to  cases  in  which  no  other  probable  means  of  preserving  our  life 
remain,  as  night,  calling  for  assistance,  disarming  the  adversary, 
&c.  The  rule  holds,  whether  the  danger  proceed  from  a  volun- 
tary attack,  as  by  an  enemy,  robber,  or  assassin  ;  or  from  an  in- 
voluntary one,  as  by  a  madman,  or  person  sinking  in  the  water, 
and  dragging  us  after  him  ;  or  where  two  persons  are  reduced  to 
M-  a  situation  in  which  one  or  both  of  them  must  perish  ;  as  in  a 


'P 


<^* 


RIGHTS  OF  SELF-DEFENCE.  23$ 

shipwreck,  where  two  seize  upon  a  plank,  which  will  support 
only  one  ;  although,  to  say  the  truth,  these  extreme  cases,  which 
happen  seldom,  and  hardly,  when  they  do  happen,  admit  of  mor* 
al  agency,  are  scarcely  worth  mentioning,  much  less  debating. 

The  instance  which  approaches  the  nearest  to  the  preserva- 
tion of  life,  and  which  seems  to  justify  the  same  extremities,  is 
the  defence  of  chastity. 

In  all  other  cases,  it  appears  to  me  the  safest  to  consider  the 
taking  away  of  life  as  authorized  by  the  law  of  the  land  ;  and 
the  person  who  takes  it  away,  as  in  the  situation  of  a  minister  or 
executioner  of  the  law. 

In  which  view,  homicide,  in  England,  is  justifiable  : 

1.  To  prevent  the  commission  ot  a  crime,  which,  when  com- 
mitted, v.^ould  be  punishable  with  death.  Thus,  it  is  lawful  to 
shoot  a  highwayman,  or  one  attempting  to  break  into  a  house  by 
night  ;  but  not  by  day  :  which  particular  distinction,  by  a  con- 
sent that  is  remarkable,  obtained  also  in  the  Jewish  law,  as  well 
as  in  the  lawa  both  of  Greece  and  Rome. 

2.  In  necessary  endeavours  to  carry  the  law  into  execution,  as 
in  suppressing  riots,  apprehending  malefactors,  preventing  es- 
capes, &c. 

I  do  not  know  that  tlie  law  holds  forth  its  authority  to  any  ca- 
ses besides  those  which  fall  within  one  or  other  of  the  above  de- 
scriptions ;  or  that,  after  the  exception  of  immediate  danger  to 
life  or  chastity,  the  destruction  of  a  human  being  can  be  innocent 
without  that  authority. 

The  rights  of  war  ore  not  here  taken  into  the  account. 


% 


254  DRUNKENNESS, 


CHAPTER  II. 

DRUNKENNESS. 

DRUNKENNESS  is  either  actual  or  habitual  ;  just  as  it  is 
one  thing  to  be  drunk,  and  another  to  be  a  drunkard.  What  we 
shall  deliver  upon  the  subject  must  principally  be  understood  of 
a  habit  of  intemperance  ;  although  part  of  the  guilt  and  danger 
described  may  be  applicable  to  casual  excesses  ;  and  all  of  it, 
in  a  certain  degree,  forasmuch  as  every  habit  is  only  a  repetition 
of  single  instances. 

The  mischief  of  drunkenness,  from  which  we  arc  to  compute 
the  guilt  of  it,  consists  in  the  following  bad  eflfects  : — 

1.  It  betrays  most  constitutions  either  into  extravagancies  of 
anger,  or  sins  of  lewdness. 

2.  It  disqualifies  men  for  the  duties  of  their  station,  both  by 
the  temporary  disorder  of  their  faculties,  and  at  length  by  a  con- 
stant incapacity  and  stupefaction. 

3.  It  is  attended  with  expenses,  which  can  often  be  ill  spared. 

4.  It  is  sure  to  occasion  uneasiness  to  the  family  of  the  drunk- 
ard. 

5.  It  shortens  life. 

To  these  consequences  of  drunkenness  must  be  added,  the  pe- 
culiar danger  and  mischief  of  the  example.  Drunkenness  is  a 
social  festive  vice  ;  apt,  beyond  any  vice  I  can  mention,  to  draw 
in  others  by  the  example.  The  drinker  collects  his  circle  ;  the 
circle  naturally  spreads  ;  of  those  who  are  drawn  within  it,  many 
become  the  corrupters  and  centres  of  sets  and  circles  of  their 
own  ;  every  one  countenancing,  and  perhaps  emulating  the  rest, 
till  a  whole  neighborhood  be  infected  from  the  contagion  of  a  sin- 
gle example.  This  account  is  confirmed  by  what  we  often  ob- 
serve of  drunkenness,  that  it  is  a  local  vice,  found  to  prevail  in 
certain  countries,  in  certain  districts  of  a  country,  or  in  particular 


DRUNKENNESS.  235 

towns,  without  any  reason  to  be  given  for  the  fashion,  but  that  it 
had  been  introduced  by  some  popular  examples.  With  this  ob- 
servation upon  the  spreading  quality  of  drunkenness,  let  us  con- 
nect a  remark  which  belongs  to  the  several  evil  effects  above  re- 
cited. The  consequences  of  a  vice,  like  the  symptoms  of  a  dis- 
ease, though  they  be  all  enumerated  in  the  description,  seldom 
all  meet  in  the  same  subject.  In  the  instance  under  considera- 
tion, the  age  and  temperature  of  one  drunkard  may  have  little  to 
fear  from  inflammations  of  lust  or  anger  ;  the  fortune  of  a  second 
may  not  be  injured  by  the  expense  ;  a  third  may  have  no  fami- 
ly to  be  disquieted  by  his  irregularities  ;  and  a  fourth  may  pos- 
sess a  constitution  fortified  against  the  poison  of  strong  liquors. 
But  it,  as  we  always  ought  to  do,  we  comprehend  within  the  con- 
sequences of  our  conduct  the  mischief  and  tendency  of  the  exam- 
ple, the  above  circumstances,  however  fortunate  for  the  individ- 
ual, will  be  found  to  vary  the  guilt  of  his  intemperance  less, 
probably,  than  he  supposes.  Although  the  waste  of  time  and 
money  may  be  of  small  importance  to  you,  it  may  be  of -the  ut- 
most to  some  one  or  other  whom  your  society  corrupts.  Repeat- 
ed or  long  continued  excesses,  which  hurt  not  your  health,  may 
be  fafal  to  your  companion.  Although  you  have  neither  wife, 
nor  child,  nor  parent,  to  lament  your  absence  from  home,  or  ex- 
pect your  return  to  it  with  terror,  other  famili-es,  whose  hus.bands 
and  fathers  have  been  invited  to  share  in  your  ebriely,  or  encour- 
aged to  imitate  it,  may  justly  lay  their  misery  or  ruin  at  your 
|door.  This  will  hold  good,  whether  the  person  seduced  be  se- 
duced immediately  by  you,  or  the  vice  be  propagated  from  you 
to  him  through  several  intermediate  examples.  A  moralist  must 
assemble  all  these  considerations,  to  judge  truly  of  a  vice,  which 
usually  meets  with  milder  names  and  more  indulgence  than  it 
deserves. 

1  omit  those  outrages  upon  one  another,  and  upon  the  peace 
and  safety  of  the  neighbourhood,  in  which  drunken  revels  often 
end  ;  and  also  those  deleterious  and  maniacal  effects  which  stron*? 
liquors  produce  upon  particular  consiitulions  ;  because,  in  gene- 


23G         j^m  DRUNKENNESS. 


%*# 


ral  propositions  concerning  drunkenness,  no  consequences  sliould 
be  included,  but  what  are  constant  enough  to  be  generally  ex- 
pected. 

Drunkenness  is  repeatedly  forbidden  by  St.  Paul  :  "  Be  not 
"  drunk  with  wine,  wherein  is  excess."  "  Let  us  walk  honest- 
"  ly  as  in  the  day,  not  in  rioting  and  drunkenness."  "  Be  not 
"  deceived  :  neither  fornicators,  nor  drunkards,  nor  revilers,  nor 
"  extortioners,  shall  inherit  the  kingdom  of  God."  Eph.  v.  18  ; 
Rom.  xiii.  13  ;  1  Cor.  vi.  9,  10.  The  same  apostle  likewise 
condemns  drunkenness,  as  peculiarly  inconsistent  with  the  Chris- 
tian profession  : — "  They  that  be  drunken,  are  drunken  in  the 
"  night  :  but  let  us  who  are  of  the  day,  be  sober."  1  Thess. 
V.  7,  8.  We  are  not  concerned  with  the  aigumerrt  ;  the  Avurds 
amount  to  a  jirohibition  of  drunkenness  ;  and  tae  authority  is 
conclusive. 

It  is  a  question  of  some  importance,  how  far  drunkenness  is  an 
excuse  for  the  crimes  which  the  drunken  person  commits. 

In  the  solution  of  this  question,  we  will  first  suppose  the 
drunken  person  to  be  altogether  deprived  of  moral  agency,  that 
is  to  say  of  all  reflection  and  foresight.  In  this  condition^  it  is 
evident  that  he  is  no  more  capable  of  guilt  than  a  madmair^  al- 
though, like  him,  he  may  be  extremely  mischievous.  The  only 
guilt  with  which  he  is  chargeable,  was  incurred  at  the  time  when 
he  voluntarily  brought  himself  into  this  situation.  And  as  every 
man  is  responsible  for  the  consequences  which  he  foresaw-,  or 
might  have  foreseen,  and  for  no  other,  this  guilt  will  be  in  pro-l 
portion  to  the  probability  of  such  consequences  ensuing.  From 
which  principle  results  the  following  rule,  viz.  that  the  guilt  of 
any  action  in  a  drunken  man  bears  the  same  proportion  to  the 
guilt  of  the  like  action  in  a  sober  man,  that  the  probability  of  its 
being  the  consequence  of  drunkenness  bears  to  absolute  certain- 
ty. By  virtue  of  this  rule,  those  vices  which  are  thfe  known  ef- 
fects of  drunkenness,  either  in  general,  or  upon  particular  consti- 
tutions, are,  in  all,  or  in  men  of  such  constitutions,  nearlyas  crim- 
inal as  if  committed  with  all  their  faculties  and  senses  about  them. 


DRUNKENNESS.  237 

If  the  privation  of  reason  be  only  partial,  the  guilt  will  be 
of  a  mixed  nature.  For  so  much  of  his  self-government  as 
the  drunkard  retains,  he  is  as  responsible  then  as  at  any  other 
time.  He  is  entitled  to  no  abatement  beyond  the  strict  propor- 
tion in  which  his  moral  faculties  are  impaired.  Now  I  call  the 
guilt  of  the  crime,  if  a  sober  man  had  committed  it,  the  whole 
guilt.  A  person  in  the  condition  we  describe,  incurs  part  of 
this  at  the  instant  of  perpetration  ;  and  by  bringing  himself  into 
this  condition,  he  incured  su  h  a  fraction  of  the  remaining  part, 
as  the  danger  of  this  consequence  was  of  an  integral  certainty. 
For  the  sake  of  illustration,  we  are  at  liberty  to  suppose,  that  a 
man  loses  half  his  moral  faculties  by  drunkenness  :  this  leaving 
him  but  half  his  responsibility,  he  incurs,  when  he  commits  tlie 
action,  half  of  the  whole  guilt.  We  will  also  suppose,  that  it  was 
known  beforehand  that  it  was  an  even  chance,  or  half  a  certain- 
ty, that  this  crime  would  follow  his  getting  drunk.  This  makes 
him  chargeable  with  half  the  remainder  ;  so  that,  altogether,  he 
is  responsible  in  three-fourths  of  the  guilt  which  a  sober  man 
would  have  incurred  by  the  same  action,  I  do  not  mean  that 
any  real  case  can  be  reduced  to  numbers,  or  the  calculation 
made  with  arithmetical  precision  ;  but  these  are  the  piinciples, 
and  this  the  rule,  by  which  our  general  admeasurement  of  the 
guilt  of  such  offences  should  be  regulated. 

The  appetite  for  intoxicating  liqours  appears  to  me  to  be  al- 
most always  ac^-MiVetZ.  One  proof  of  which  is,  that  it  is  apt 
to  return  only  at  particular  times  and  places  ;  as  after  dinner,  in 
the  evening,  on  the  market-day,  at  the  market-town,  in  such 
a  company,  at  such  a  tavern.  And  this  may  be  the  reason  that, 
if  a  habit  of  drunkenness  be  ever  overcome,  it  is  upon  some 
change  of  place,  situation,  company,  or  profession.  A  man 
sunk  deep  in  a  habit  of  drunkenness  will,  upon  such  occasions  as 
these,  when  he  finds  himself  loosened  from  the  associations  which 
held  him  fast,  sometimes  make  a  pltuige  and  get  out.  In  a 
matter  of  such  great  importance,  it  is  well  worth  while,  where 
it  is  tolerably  convenient,  to  change  our  habitation  and  society, 
for  the  sake  of  the  experiment. 


238  DRUxNKENNESi?. 

Habits  of  drunkenness  couiinonly  take  llieir  rise  ehher  from 
a  fondness  for,  and  connexion  with,  some  company,  or  some 
companion,  already  addicted  to  this  practice  ;  which  affords  an 
almost  irresistible  invitation  to  take  a  share  in  the  indulgences 
which  tliose  about  us  are  enjoying  with  so  much  apparent  relish 
and  delight  ;  or  from  want  of  regular  employment,  which  is 
sure  to  let  in  many  superfluous  cravings,  and  customs,  and  often 
this  amongst  the  rest ;  or,  lastly,  from  grief,  or  fatigue,  both 
which  strongly  solicit  that  relief  which  inebriating  liquors  ad- 
minister for  the  present,  and  furnish  a  specious  excuse  for  com- 
plying with  the  inclination.  But  the  habit,  when  once  set  in, 
is  continued  by  different  motives  from  those  to  which  it  owes  its 
oT-igin.  Persons  addicted  to  excessive  drinking,  suffer,  in  (he 
intervals  of  sobriety,  and  near  the  return  of  their  accustomed  in- 
dulgence, a  faintiiess  and  oppression  circa  prcccordia,  whicli  it 
exceeds  the  ordinary  patience  of  human  natuie  to  endure. 
This  is  usually  relieved  for  a  short  time  b}'  a  repetition  of  the 
same  excess  ;  and  to  this  relief,  as  to  the  removal  of  every  long- 
continued  pain,  they  who  have  once  experienced  it,  are  urged 
almost  beyond  the  power  of  resistance.  This  is  not  all  :  as  the 
liquor  loses  its  stimulus,  the  dose  must  be  increased,  to  reach 
the  same  pitch  of  elevation,  or  ease  ;  which  increase  propor- 
tionably  accelerates  the  progress  of  all  the  maladies  that  drunk- 
enness brings  on.  Whoever  reflects  upon  (he  violence  of  the 
craving  in  the  advanced  stages  of  the  habit,  and  the  fatal  ter- 
minaiion  to  which  the  gratification  of  it  leads,  will,  the  moment 
iie  perceives  the  least  tendency  in  himself  of  a  growing  inclina- 
tion to  intemperance,  collect  his  resolution  to  this  point ;  or 
(what  perhaps  he  will  find  his  best  security)  arm  himself  with 
.;ome  peremptory  rule,  as  to  the  limes  and  quantity  of  his  in- 
dulgences. I  own  myself  a  .^riend  to  the  laying  down  of  rules 
to  ourselves  of  this  sort,  and  rigidly  abiding  by  them.  Tiiey 
may  be  exclaimed  against  as  stiff,  but  they  are  often  salutary. 
Indefinite  resolutions  of  abstemiousness  arc  apt  to  yield  to  extra- 
ordiimry  occasion  ;  and  extraordinary  occasions  to  occur  per- 


SUICIDE.  239 

petually.  Whereas,  the  stricter  the  rule  is,  the  more  tenacious 
we  grow  of  it  :  and  ninny  a  man  will  abstain  rather  than  break 
his  rule,  who  would  not  easily  be  brought  to  exercise  the  same 
mortification  from  higher  motives.  Not  to  mention,  that  when 
our  rule  is  once  known,  we  are  provided  with  an  answer  to  eve- 
ry importunity. 

There  is  a  difference,  no  doubt,  between  convivial  intemper- 
ance, and  thalsolitarysottishness  which  wails  neither  for  compa- 
ny nor  invitation.  But  the  one,  1  am  afraid,  commonly  ends  in 
the  other ;  and  this  last  is  the  basest  degradation  to  which  the 
faculties  and  dignity  of  human  nature  can  be  reduced. 


CHAPTER  III. 

SUICIDE. 

THERE  is  no  subject  in  morality  in  which  the  consideration 
ai  general  consequences  is  more  necessary  than  in  this  of  suicide. 
Particular  and  extreme  cases  of  suicide  may  be  feigned  and 
may  happen,  of  which  it  would  be  diificult  to  assign  the  partic- 
ular harm,  or  demonstrate  from  that  consideration  alone  the 
guilt;  and  these  cases  have  chiefiy  occasioned  confusion  and 
doubtfulness  in  the  question  ;  albeit  this  is  no  more  than  what  is 
sometimes  true  of  the  most  acknowledged  vices.  I  could  pro- 
yiose  many  possible  cases  even  of  murder,  which,  if  they  were 
detached  from  the  general  rule,  and  governed  by  their  own  par- 
ticular consequences  alone,  it  would  be  no  easy  undertaking  to 
prove  criminal. 

The  true  cjuestion  in  the  argument  is  no  other  than  this  : — 
May  every  man  who  pleases  to  destroy  his  life,  innocently  do 
so?  Twist,  limit,  and  distinguish  the  subject  as  you  can,  it  will 
come  at  last  to  this  question. 

For,  shall  we  say,  that  we  are  then  only  at  liberty  to  commit 


240  SUICIDE. 

suicide,  when  we  find  our  continuance  in  life  become  useless  tu 
mankind  ?  Any  one  who  pleases  may  make  himself  useless  ;  and 
melancholy  minds  are  prone  to  think  themselves  useless,  when 
they  really  are  not  so.  Suppose  a  law  were  promulgated,  allowing 
each  private  person  to  destroy  every  man  he  met,  whose  longer 
continuance  in  the  world  he  judged  to  be  useless;  who  would 
not  condemn  the  latitude  of  such  a  rule  ?  who  does  not  perceive 
that  it  amounts  to  a  permission  to  commit  murder  at  pleasure  ? 
A  similar  rule,  regulating  the  right  over  our  own  lives,  would 
be  capable  of  the  same  extension.  Beside  which,  no  one  is  use- 
less for  the  purpose  of  this  plea,  but  he  who  has  lost  every  ca- 
pacity and  opportunity  of  being  useful,  together  with  the  pos- 
sibility of  recovering  any  degree  of  either;  which  is  a  state  of 
such  complete  destitution  and  despair,  as  cannot,  I  believe,  be 
predicated  of  any  man  living. 

Or  rather,  shall  we  say  that  to  depart  voluntarily  out  of  life,  is 
lawful  for  those  alone  who  leave  none  to  lament  their  death  ? 
If  this  consideration  is  to  be  taken  into  the  account  at  all,  the  sub- 
ject of  debate  will  be,  not  whether  there  are  any  to  sorrow   for 
us,  but  whether  their  sorrow  for  our  death  will  exceed  that  which 
we  should  suder  by  continuing  to  live.     Now,  this  is  a  compari- 
son of  things  so  indeterminate  in  their  nature,  capable  of  so  dif- 
ferent a  judgment,  and  concerning  which  the  judgment  will  differ 
so  much,  according  to  the  state  of  the  spirits,  or  the  pressure  of 
any  present  anxiety,  that  it  would  vary  little,  in  hypochondria- 
cal constitutions,  from  an  unqualified  licence  to  commit  suicide, 
whenever  the  distresses  men  felt,  or  fancied,  rose  high  enough  to 
overcome  the  pain  and  dread  of  death.     Men  are  never  tempted 
to  destroy  themselves  but  when  under  the  oppression  of  some 
grievous  uneasiness  ;  the  restrictions  of  the  rule,  therefore,  oughi 
to  apply  to  these  cases.     But  what  eifect  can  we  look  for  from  a 
rule  which  proposes  to  weigh  our  own  pain  against  that  of  anoth- 
er ;  the  misery  that  is  felt,  against  that  which  is  only  conceived  ; 
and  in  so  corrupt  a  balance  as  the  party's  own  distempered  im- 
agination ? 


SUICIDE.  241 

In  like  manner,  whatever  other  rule  you  assign,  it  will  ulti- 
mately bring  us  to  an  indiscriminate  toleration  of  suicide,  in  ail 
cases  in  which  there  is  danger  of  its  being  committed.  It  re- 
mains, therefore,  to  inquire  what  would  be  the  effect  of  such  a 
toleration  ?  evidently,  the  loss  of  many  lives  to  the  community,  of 
which  some  might  be  useful  or  important  ;  the  affliction  of  man^ 
families,  and  the  consternation  of  a/Z;  for  mankind  must  live  in 
continual  alarln  for  the  fate  of  their  friends  and  dearest  relations, 
when  the  restraints  of  religion  and  morality  are  withdrawn  ; 
when  every  disgust  wliicli  is  powerful  enough  to  tempt  men  to 
suicide,  shall  be  deemed  sufllcient  to  justify  it ;  and  when  the 
follies  and  vices,  as  well  as  the  inevitable  calamities,  of  human 
life,  so  often  make  existence  a  burthen. 

A  second  consideration,  and  perfectly  distinct  from  the  former, 
is  this  : — By  continuing  in  the  world,  and  in  the  exercise  of  those 
virtues  which  remain  within  our  power,  we  retain  the  opportuni- 
ty of  meliorating  our  condition  in  a  future  state  This  argument, 
it  is-true,  does  not  in  strictness  prove  suicide  to  be  a  crime  ;  but 
if  it  supply  a  motive  to  dissuade  us  from  committing  it,  it  amounts 
to  much  the  same  thing.  Now,  there  is  no  condition  in  human 
life  which  is  not  capable  of  some  virtue,  active  or  passive.  Eveo 
piety  and  resignation  under  the  sufferings  to  which  we  are  caRed, 
testify  a  trust  and  acquiescence  in  the  Divine  counsels,  more  ac- 
ceptable, perhaps,  than  the  most  prostrate  devotion  ;  afford  an 
edifying  example  to  all  who  observe  them  ;  and  may  hope  for 
a  recompense  among  the  most  arduous  of  human  virtues.  These 
qualities  are  always  in  the  power  of  the  miserable  ;  indeed  of 
none  but  the  miserable. 

The  two  considerations  above  stated,  belong  to  all  cases  of 
suicide  whatever.  Besides  which  general  reasons,  each  case 
will  be  aggravated  by  its  own  proper  and  particular  consequen- 
ces ;  by  the  duties  that  are  deserted  ;  by  the  claims  that  are  de- 
frauded ;  by  the  loss,  affliction,  or  disgrace,  which  our  death,  or 
the  manner  of  it,  causes  to  our  family,  kindred,  or  friends  ;  by 
the  occasion  we  give  to  many  to  suspect  tbe  sincerity  of  our 
31 


1242  ^UICIDt:. 

moral  and  religious  professions,  and,  together  with  ours,  those  of 
all  others  ;  by  the  reproach  we  draw  upon  our  order,  calling,  or 
Sect ;  in  a  word,  by  a  great  variety  of  evil  consequences  attend- 
ing upon  [leculiar  situations,  with  some  or  other  of  which  every 
actual  case  of  suicide  is  chargeable. 

I  refrain  from  the  common  topics  of  "  deserting  our  post," 
"throwing  up  our  trust,''  "rushing  uncalled  into  the  presence  of 
"  our  maker,"  with  some  others  of  the  same  sort,  not  because 
they  are  common^  (for  that  rather  affords  a  presumption  in  their 
favour,)  but  because  I  do  not  perceive  in  them  much  argument 
to  which  an  answer  may  not  easily  be  given. 

Hitherto  we  have  pursued  upon  the  subject  the  light  of  nature 
alone  ;  taking  into  the  account,  however,  the  expectation  of  a  fu- 
ture existence,  without  which  our  reasoning  upon  tbis,  as  indeed 
all  reasoning  upon  moral  questions,  is  vain.  We  proceed  to  in- 
quire, whether  any  thing  is  to  be  met  with  in  Scripture,  which 
may  add  to  the  probability  of  the  conclusions  we  have  been  en- 
deavouring to  support  ?  And  here  I  acknowledge,  that  there  is 
to  be  found  neither  any  express  determination  of  the  question, 
nor  sufficient  evidence  to  prove,  that  the  case  of  suicide  was  in 
the  contemplation  of  the  law  which  prohibited  murder.  Any  in- 
ference, therefore,  which  we  deduce  from  Scripture,  can  be  sus- 
tained only  by  construction  and  implication  ;  that  is  to  say,  al- 
though they  who  were  authorized  to  instruct  mankind,  have  not 
decided  a  question  which  never,  so  far  as  appears  to  us,  came 
before  them  ;  yet,  I  think,  they  have  left  enough  to  constitute  a 
presumption  how  they  would  have  decided  it,  had  it  been  pro- 
posed or  thought  of. 

What  occurs  to  this  purpose,  is  contained  in  the  following  ob- 
servations : 

1.  Human  life  is  spoken  of  as  a  term  assigned  or  prescribed  to 
us  :  "  Let  us  run  with  patience  the  race  that  is  set  before  us." 
"  I  have  linished  my  course."  "  That  I  may  finish  my  course 
*"*  with  joy."  "  Ye  have  need  of  patience,  that,  after  ye  have 
"  done  the  will  of  God,  ye  might  receive  the  promises."— These 


SUICIDE.  243 

expressions  appear  to  me  inconsistent  with  the  opinion,  that  we 
are  at  liberty  to  determine  the  duration  of  our  lives  for  ourselves. 
If  this  were  the  case,  with  what  propriety  could  life  be  called  a 
race  that  is  set  before  tis ;  or,  which  is  the  same  thing,  "  owr 
course  ;  "  that  is,  the  course  set  out  or  appointed  to  us  ?  The  re- 
maining (juotation  is  equally  strong  :  "  That,  after  ye  have  done 
"  the  will  of  God,  ye  might  receive  the  promises."  The  most 
natural  meaning  that  can  be  given  to  the  words,  "  after  ye  have 
"  done  the  will  of  God,"  is,  after  ye  have  discharged  the  duties 
of  life  so  long  as  God  is  pleased  to  continue  you  in  it.  Accord- 
ing  to  this  interpretation,  the  text  militates  strongly  against  sui- 
cide ;  and  they  who  reject  this  paraphrase,  vvilj  please  to  pro- 
pose a  Letter. 

2.  There  is  not  one  quality  which  Christ  and  his  Apostles  in- 
culcate upon  their  followers  so  often,  or  so  earnestly,  as  that  o\. 
patience  under  affliction.  Now  this  virtue  would  have  been  in  a 
great  measure  superseded,  and  the  exhortations  to  it  might  have 
been  spared,  if  the  disciples  of  his  religion  had  been  at  liberty 
to  quit  the  world  as  soon  as  they  grew  weary  of  the  ill  usage 
which  they  received  in  it.  When  the  evils  of  life  pressed  sore, 
they  were  to  look  forward  to  a  "far  more  exceeding  and  eternal 
"  weight  of  glory  ;"  they  were  to  receive  "  them  as  the  chasten- 
"  ing  of  the  Lord,"  as  intimations  of  his  care  and  love  :  by  these 
and  the  like  reflections  they  were  to  support  and  improve  them- 
selves under  their  sufferings,  but  not  a  hint  has  any  where  esca- 
ped of  seeking  relief  in  a  voluntary  death.  The  following  text, 
in  particular,  strongly  combats  all  impatience  of  distress,  of  which 
the  greatest  is  that  v/hich  prompts  to  acts  of  suicide  :  "  Consid- 
"  er  him  that  endured  such  contradiction  of  sinners  against  him- 
"  self,  lest  ye  be  wearied  and  faint  in  your  minds."  I  would 
offer  my  comment  upon  this  passage  in  these  two  queries  ;  first, 
.Whether  a  Christian  convert,  who  had  been  impelled  by  the 
£ontinuance  and  urgency  of  his  suflferings  to  destroy  his  own  life, 
would  not  have  been  thought,  by  the  author  of  this  text,  "  to  have 
*•'■  bfcen  weary,"  '•  (ohave  fainted  in  his  mind,"  tohavefallerj  of 


\ 


244  SUICIDE. 

from  that  example  which  is  here  proposed  to  tlie  meditation  of 
Christians  in  distress  ?  And  yet,  secondly,  Whether  such  an  act 
vvDuld  not  have  been  attended  with  all  the  circumstances  of  mit- 
igation which  can  excuse  or  extenuate  suicide  at  this  day  ? 

3.  The  conduct  of  the  Apostles,  and  of  the  Christians  of»thc 
apostolic  age,  affords  no  obscure  indication  of  their  sentiments 
upon  this  point.  They  lived,  we  are  sure,  in  a  confirmed  per- 
suasion ot  the  existence,  as  well  as  of  the  happiness  of  a  fu- 
ture state.  They  experienced  in  this  world  every  extremity  of 
external  injury  and  distress.  To  die,  was  gain.  The  change 
which  death  brought  with  it  was,  in  their  expectation,  infi- 
nitely beneficial.  Yet  it  never,  that  we  can  find,  entered  into 
the  intention  of  one  of  them  to  hasten  this  change  by  an  act  of 
suicide  ;  from  which  it  is  difficult  to  say  what  motive  could  have 
so  universally  withheld  them,  except  an  apprehension  of  some 
unlawfulness  in  the  expedient. 

Having  stated  what  we  have  been  able  to  collect  in  opposi- 
tion to  the  lawfulness  of  suicide,  by  way  of  direct  proof,  it 
seems  unnecessary  to  open  a  separate  controversy  with  all  the 
arguments  whicW  are  made  use  of  to  defend  it  ;  which  would 
only  lead  us  into  a  repetition  of  what  has  been  offered  already. 
The  following  argument,  however,  being  somewhat  more  artificial 
and  imposing  than  the  rest,  as  well  as  distinct  from  the  gen- 
eral consideration  of  the  subject,  cannot  so  properly  be  passed 
over.  If  we  deny  to  the  individual  a  right  over  his  own  life, 
it  seems  impossible,  it  is  said,  to  reconcile  with  the  law  of  na- 
ture that  right  which  the  state  claims  and  exercises  over  the 
lives  of  its  subjects,  when  it  ordains  or  inflicts  capital  punishments. 
For  this  right,  like  all  other  just  authority  in  the  state,  can  only 
be  derived  from  the  compact  and  virtual  consent  of  the  citizens 
which  compose  the  state  ;  and  it  seems  self-evident,  if  any 
principle  in  morality  be  so,  that  no  one,  by  his  consent,  can 
transfer  to  another  a  right  which  he  does  not  possess  himself. 
It  will  be  equally  difficult  to  account  for  the  power  of  the  state 
fo  commit  its  subjects  to  the  dangers  of   war,  and  to  expose  theFr 


SUICIDE.  245 

lives  without  scruple  in  the  field  of  battle  ;  especially  in  offen- 
sive hostilities,  in  which  the  privileges  of  self-defence  cannot  be 
pleaded  with  any  appearance  of  truth  :  and  still  more  difficult 
to  explain,  how,  in  such,  or  in  any  circumstances,  prodigality  of 
life  can  be  a  virtue,  if  the  preservation  of  it  be  a  duty  of  our 
nature. 

This  whole  reasoning  sets  out  from  one  error,   namely,  that 
the  state  acquires  its  right  over  the  life  of  the   subject  from  the 
subject's  own  consent,  as  a   part  of  what  originally  and  person- 
ally belonged  to  himself,  and  which  he   has  made    over  to  his^ 
governors.     The  truth  is,  the   state  derives   this  right   neithei* 
from  the  consent  of  the  subject,  nor  through  the  medium  of  that 
consent ;  but,  as  I   may  say,  immediately  from  the  donation  of 
the  Deity.     Finding  that  such  a  power  in  the  sovereign  of  the 
community  is  expedient,  if  not  necessary,  for  the    community 
itself,  it  is  justly  presumed  to  be  the  will  of  God,  that  the  sove- 
reign should   possess  and  excercise  it.     It   is  this  presumption 
which  constitutes  the  right  ;  it  is  the  same  indeed   which  con-     ,; 
stitutes  every  other ;  and  if  there  were   the   like  reasons  to  au-     > 
thorize  the   presumption  in   the  case  of  private  persons,  suicide     ! 
would  be  as  justifiable  as  war,  or  capital  executions.     But,  until 
it  can  be  shown  that  the  power  over  human  life  may  be  conver- 
ted to  the  same  advantage  in  the  hands  of  individuals  over  their 
own,  as  in  those  of  the  state  over  the  lives  of  its  subjects,   and 
that  it  may  be  entrusted  with  equal  safety  to  both,  there  is   no      ', 
room  for  arguing,  from  the  existence  of  such  ;i  right   in  the  lat- 
ter, to  the  toleration  of  it  in  the  former. 


BOOK  V. 


DUTIES  TOWARDS  GOD. 


CHAPTER  1. 

DIVISION  OF  THESE  DUTIES. 

IN  one  sense,  cve}y  duty  is  a  duty  towards  God,  since  it  is  his 
will  wliich  makes  it  a  duty  ;  but  there  are  some  duties  of  which 
God  is  the  object,  as  well  as  the  author  ;  and  these  are  peculi- 
arly, and  in  a  more  appropriated  sense,  called  duties  towards 
God. 

That  silent  piety,  which  consists  in  a  habit  of  tracing  out  the 
Creator's  wisdom  and  goodness' in  the  objects  around  us,  or  in 
the  history  of  his  dispensations  ;  or  of  referring  the  blessings  we 
enjoy  to  his  bounty,  and  of  resorting  to  his  succour  in  our  dis- 
tress ;  may  possibly  be  more  acceptable  to  the  Deity  than  any 
visible  expressions  of  devotion  whatever.  Yet  these  latter 
(which  although,  they  irtay  be  excelled,  are  not  superseded  by 
the  former)  compose  the  only  part  of  the  subject  which  admits 
of  direction  or  disquisition  from  a  moralist. 

Our  duty  towards  God,  so  far  as  it  is  external,  is  divided  into 
■worship  and  reverence.  God  is  the  immediate  object  of  both  ; 
and  the  difl'erence  between  them  is,  that  the  one  consists  in  aC' 
tion,  the  other  in  forbearance.     When  we  go  to  church  on   the 


OF  PRAYER.  247 

Lord's  day,  led  thither  by  a  sense  of  duty  towards  God,  we 
perform  an  act  of  worship  ;  when  we  rest  in  a  journey  upon 
that  day,  from  the  same  motive,  we  discharge  a  duty  of  rever- 
ence. 

Divine  worship  is  made  up  of  adoration,  thanksgiving,  and 
prayer. — But  as  what  we  have  to  offer  concerning  the  two  for- 
mer may  be  observed  of  prayer,  we  shall  make  that  the  title  of 
the  following  chaptel'S,  and  the  direct  subject  of  our  consider- 
ation. 


CHAPTER  II. 

OF  THE  DUTY  AND  OF  THE  EFFICACY  OF  PRAYER,  SO 
FAR  AS  THE  SAME  APPEAR  FROM  THE  LIGHT  OF  NA- 
TURE. ^ 

WHEN  one  man  desires  to  obtain  any  thing  of  another,  he 
betakes  himself  to  entreaty  ;  and  this  may  be  observed  of 
mankind  in  all  ages  and  countries  of  the  world.  Now  what  is 
universal,  may  be  called'  natural  ;  and  it  seems  probable  that 
God,  as  our  supreme  governor,  should  expect  that  towards  him- 
self, which  by  a  natural  impulse,  or  by  the  irresistible  order  of 
our  constitution,  he  has  prompted  us  to  pay  to  every  other  be- 
ing on  whom  we  depend. 

The  same  may  be  said  of  thanksgiving. 

Again,  prayer  is  necessary  to  keep  up  in  the  minds  of  man- 
kind a  sense  of  God's  agency  in  the  universe  and  of  their  de- 
pendency upon  him. 

But,  after  all,  the  duty  of  prayer  depends  upon  its  efficacy: 
for  I  confess  myself  unable  to  conceive,  how  any  man  can  pray, 
or  be  obliged  to  pray,  who  expects  nothing  from  his  prayer; 
but  who  is  persuaded,  at  the  time  he  utters  his  request,  that  it 
cannot  possibly  produre  the  smallest   impression  upon  the  Be- 


'flA^ 


240  OF  rtlAYER. 

ing  to  whom  it  i.s  addressed,  or  advantage  to  himself.  Now  the 
efficacj  of  prayer  imports  that  we  obtain  something  in  conse- 
quence of  praying,  which  we  should  not  have  received  without 
prayer ;  against  all  expectation  of  which,  the  following  objec- 
tion has  been  often  and  seriously  alleged  : — "  If  it  be  most  agrcea- 
"'ble  to  perfect  wisdom  and  justice  that  we  should  receive  what 
"  we  desire,  God,  as  perfectly  wise  and  just,  will  give  it  to  us 
*'  without  asking ;  if  it  be  not  agreeable  to  these  attributes  of 
"  his  nature,  our  entreaties  cannot  move  him  to  give  it  us,  and 
"  it  were  impious  to  "  expect  they  should."  In  fewer  words, 
thus  ;  "  If  what  we  request  be  fit  for  us,  we  shall  have  it  with- 
"  out  praying  ;  if  it  be  not  fit  for  us,  we  cannot  obtain  it  by 
"  praying."  This  objection  admits  but  of  one  answer,  namely, 
that  ifmay  be  agreeable  to  perfect  wisdom  to  grant  that  to  our 
prayers,  which  it  would  not  have  been  agreeable  to  the  same 
wisdom  to  have  given  us  without  praying  for.  But  what  virtue, 
you  ril!  ask,  is  there  in  prayer,  which  should  make  a  favor 
consistent  with  wisdom,  which  would  not  have  been  so  without 
it?  To  this  question,  which  contains  the  whole  difficulty  atten- 
ding the  subject,  the  following  possibilities  are  ofifered  'in 
reply  : — 

1.  A  favor  granted  to  prayer  may  be  more  apt,  on  that  very 
account,  to  produce  good  effects  upon  the  person  obliged.  It 
may  hold  in  the  Divine  bounty,  what  experience  has  raised  into 
a  proverb  in  the  collation  of  human  benefits,  that  what  is  ob- 
tained without  asking,  is  oftentimes   received  without  gratitude. 

2.  It  may  be  consistent  with  the  wisdom  of  the  Deity  to  with- 
hold his  favors  till  they  be  asked  for,  as  an  expedient  to  en- 
courage devotion  in  his  rational  creation,  in  order  thereby  to 
keep  up  and  circulate  a  knowledge  and  sense  of  their  depen- 
dency upon  him. 

3.  Prayer  has  a  natural  tendency  to  amend  the  petitioner 
himself;  and  thus  to  bring  him  within  the  rules  which  the  wis- 
dom of  the  Deity  has  prescribed  to  the  dispensation  of  his  fa- 
vors. 


OF  PRAYEIl.  ^4gi 

If  these,  or  any  other  assignable  suppositions,  serve  to  remove 
the  apparent  repugnancy  between  the  success  of  prayer  and  the 
charactes  of  the  Deity,  it  is  enough  ;  for  the  question  with  the 
petitioner  is  not  fioiii  which,  out  of  many  motives,  God  may 
grant  his  petition,  or  in  what  particular  manner  he  is  moved  by 
the  supplications  of  his  creatures  ;  but  whether  it  be  consistent 
with  his  nature  to  be  moved  at  all,  and  whether  there  be  any 
conceivable  motives  which  may  dispose  the  divine  will  to  grant 
the  petitioner  what  he  wants,  in  consequence  of  his  praying  for 
it.  It  is  sutBcient  for  the  petitioner,  that  he  gain  his  end.  It  is 
not  necessary  to  devotion,  perhaps  not  very  consistent  with  it, 
that  the  circuit  of  causes,  by  which  his  prayers  prevail,  should 
be  known  to  the  petitioner,  nnich  less  that  they  should  be  pres- 
ent to  his  imagination  at  the  time.  All  that  is  necessary  is,  that 
there  be  no  impossibility  apprehended  in  the  matter. 

Thus  much  must  be  conceded  to  the  objection  ;  that  prayer 
cannot  reasonably  be  offered  to  God  with  all  the  same  views, 
with  which  we  oftentimes  address  our  entreaties  to  men,  (views 
which  are  not  commonly  or  easily  separated  from  it,)  viz.  to  in- 
form them  of  our  wartts  or  desires  ;  to  tease  them  out  by  impof 
tuJiity  ;  to  work  upon  their  indolence  or  compassion,  to  persuade 
them  to  do  what  they  ought  to  have  done  before;  or  ought  not  t® 
do  at  all. 

But  suppose  there  existed  a  prince,  who  was  known  by  his 
subjects  to  act,  of  his  own  accord,  always  and  invariably  for  the 
best  ;  the  situation  of  a  petitioner,  who  solicited  a  favour  or 
pardon  from  >:i<d\  a  prince,  would  sufficiently  resemble  ours  ; 
and  the  question  with  him,  as  with  us,  would  be,  whether,  the 
character  of  the  prince  being  considered,  there  remained  any 
chance  that  he  should  obtain  from  him  by  prayer,  what  he  would 
t\oi  have  received  without  it.  I  do  not  conceive  that  the  charac- 
ter of  such  a  prince  would  necessarily  exclude  the  eflect  of  his 
subject's  prayer  ;  for,  when  that  prince  reflected,  that  the  ear- 
nestness and  humility  of  the  supplication  had  generated  in  the 
suppliant  a  frame  of  mind,  upo^jr  which  the  pardon  or  favour  aske^l. 


25(7  OF  PRAYER. 

would  produce  a  permanent  and  active  sense  of  gratitude  ;  that 
the  grantins;  of  it  to  prayer  would  put  others  upon  praying  to 
liiin,  and  by  that  means  preserve  the  love  and  submission  of  his 
subjects,  upon  which  love  and  submission  their  OAvn  happiness, 
as  well  as  his  glory  depended  ;  that,  beside  that  the  memory  of 
the  particular  kindness  wouKl  be  heightened  and  prolonged  by 
the  anxiety  with  which  it  had  been  sued  for,  prayer  had  in  other 
respects  so  disposed  and  prepared  the  mind  of  the  petitioner,  as 
to  render  capable  of  future  services  him  who  before  was  un(}ual- 
ified  for  any  :  might  not  that  prince,  I  say,  although  he  proceed- 
ed upon  no  other  considerations  than  the  strict  rectitude  and  ex- 
pediency of  the  measure,  grant  a  favour  or  pardon  to  this  man. 
which  he  did  not  grant  to  another,  who  was  too  proud,  too  la/y, 
or  too  busy,  too  indifferent  whether  he  received  it  or  not,  or  too 
insensible  of  the  sovereign's  absolute  power  to  give  or  to  with- 
hold it,  ever  to  ask  for  it  ?  or  even  to  the  philosopher,  who,  from 
an  opinion  of  the  Iruitlessness  of  all  addresses  to  a  prince  of  the 
character  which  he  had  formed  to  himself,  refused  in  his  own 
example,  and  discouraged  in  others,  all  outward  returns  of  grati- 
tude, acknowledgments  of  duty,  or  application  to  the  sovereign's 
mercy,  or  bounty  ;  the  disuse  of  which,  (seertig  affections  do  not 
long  sti!>sist  which  are  never  expressed,)  was  followed  by  a  de- 
cay of  loyalty  and  zeal  amongst  his  subjects,  and  threatened  to 
end  in  a  iorgetfulness  of  his  rights,  and  a  contempt  of  his  author- 
ity ?  These,  together  with  other  assignable  considerations,  and 
some  pei;haps  inscrutable,  and  even  inconceivable  by  the  persons 
upon  whom  his  will  was  to  be  exercised,  might  pass  in  the  mind 
of  the  prince,  and  move  h\S  counsels  ;  whilst  nothing,  in  the 
mean  time,  dwelt  in  the  petitioner's  thoughts,  but  a  sense  of  his 
own  grief  and  wants  ;  of  the  power  and  goodness  from  which 
alone  he  Was  to  look  for  relief;  and  of  his  obligation  to  endeav- 
our, by  future  obedience,  to  render  that  person  propitious  to  his 
happiness,  in  whose  hands,  and  at  the  disposal  of  whose  mercy, 
he  found  himself  to  be. , 

The  objection  to  prayer  supposes,  that  a  perfectly  wise  being 
.ftiuit  necessarily  be  inexorable  j  but  where  is  the  proof,  that  in- 


OF  PRAYER.  26 i 

/txotahility  is  any  part  of  perfect  wisdom  ;  especially  of  that  wis- 
Aiom  wliicii  is  explained  to  consist  in  bringing  about  the  most 
Jjencficial  ends  by  the  wisest  means  ? 

The  objection  likewise  assumes  another  principle,  which  is 
attended  with  considerable  difficulty  and  obscurity,  namely,  that 
upon  every  occasion  there  is  one,  and  only  one  mode  of  action 
for  the  best ;  and  that  the  divine  will  is  necessarily  determined 
and  confined  to  that  mode  ;  both  which  positions  presume  a 
knowledge  of  universal  nature  much  beyond  what  we  are  capa- 
ble of  attaining.  Indeed,  when  we  apply  to  the  divine  nature 
such  expressions  as  these,  "  God  must  always  do  what  is  right," 
"  God  cannot,  from  the  moral  perfection  and  necessity  of  his  na- 
"  ture,  act  otherwise  than  for  the  best,"  we  ought  to  apply  them 
with  much  indeterminateness  and  reserve  ;  or  rather,  -we  ought 
to  confess,  that  there  is  something  in  the  subject  out  of  tfie  reach 
of  our  apprehension  ;  for,  to  our  apprehension,  fo  be  imder  a  ne- 
cessity of  acting  according  to  any  rule,  is  inconsistent  with  free 
agency  ;  and  it  makes  no  difference,  which  we  can  understand, 
whether -the  necessity  be  internal  or  external,  or  that  the  rule  is 
■the  rule  of  perfect  rectitude. 

But  efficacy  is  ascribed  to  prayer,  without  the  proof,  we  are 
told,  which  can  alone  in  such  a  sul)ject  produce  conviction, — the 
confirmation  of  experience.  Concerning  the  appeal  to  experi- 
ence, I  shall  content  myself  with  this  remark,  that  if  prayer  were 
suffered  to  disturb  the  order  of  second  causes  appointed  in  the 
■universe  too  much,  or  to  produce  its  effects  with  the  same  regu- 
larity that  they  do,  it  would  introdiice  a  change  into  human  af- 
fairs, which  in  some  important  respects,  would  be  evidently  foi 
the  worse.  Who,  for  example,  would  labour,  if  his  necessities 
could  be  supplied  with  equal  certainty  by  prayer?  How  few 
would  contain,  within  any  bounds  of  moderation,  those  passions 
and  pleasures,  which  at  present  are  checked  only  by  disease,  or 
the  dread  of  it,  if  prayer  would  infallibly  restore  health  ?  Ie 
short,  if  the  efficacy  of  prayer  were  so  constant  and  observable 
j^s  .to  be  relied  upon  beforehand,  it  is  ea.'iy  to  foresee  that  tlj;; 


262  or  PRAYER. 

conduct  of  mankind  would,  in  proportion  to  that  reliance,  become 
careless  and  disorderly.  It  is  possible,  in  the  nature  of  tilings, 
that  our  prayers  may,  in  many  instances,  be  efficacious,  and  yet 
our  experience  of  their  efficacy  be  dubious  and  obscure.  There- 
fore, if  the  light  of  nature  instruct  us  by  any  other  arguments  to 
hope  for  effect  from  prayer  ;  still  more,  if  the  Scriptures  author- 
ize these  hopes  by  promises  of  acceptance  ;  it  seems  not  a  sut- 
fficient  reason  for  calling  in  question  the  reality  of  such  effects, 
that  our  observations  of  them  are  ambiguous  ;  cs|)ecially  since 
it  appears  probable,  that  this  very  ambiguity  is  necessary  to  the 
happiness  and  safety  of  human  life. 

But  some,  whose  objections  do  not  exclude  all  prayer,  are  of' 
fended  with  the  mode  of  prayer  in  use  amongst  us,  and  with  ma- 
ny of  the  subjects  which  are  almost  universally  introduced  into 
public  worship,  and  recommended  to  private  devotion.     To  pray 
for  particular  favours  by  name,  is  to  dictate,  it  has  been  said,  to 
divine  wisdom  and  goodness  :   to  intercede  for  others,  especially 
for  whole  nations  and  empires,  is  still  worse  ;  it  is  to  presume 
that  we  possess  such  an  interest  with  the  Deity,  as  to  be  able, 
by  our  applications,  to  bend  the  most  important  of  his  counsels  ; 
and  that  the  happiness  of  others,  and  even  the  prosperity  of  whole 
communities,  is  to  depend  upon  this  interest,  and  upon  our  choice. 
Now,  how  unequal  soever  our  knowledge  of  the  divine  economy 
may  be  to  the  solution  of  this  difficulty,  which  may  require  a 
comprehension  of  the  entire  plan,  and  of  all  the  ends  of  God's 
moral  government,  to  explain  satisfiictoriiy,  we  can  understand 
one  thing  concerning  it,  that  it  is,  after  all,  nothing  more  than  the 
making  of  one  man  the  instrument  of  happiness  and  misery  to 
another  ;  which  is  perfectly  of  a  piece  with  the  course  and  order 
that  obtain,  and  which  wc  must  believe  were  intended  to  obtain., 
in  human  affairs.     Whj-  may  we  not  be  assisted  by  the  prayers 
of  other  men,  who  are  beholden  for  our  support  to  their  labour  ? 
Why  may  not  our  happiness  be  made  in  some  cases  to  depend 
upon  the  intercession,  as   it  certainly  does  in  many  upon  the 
good  offices,  of  our  neighbours  ?     The  happiness  and  misery  of 


OF  PRAYER,  253 

great  numbers  we  see  oftentimes  at  the  disposal  of  one  man's 
choice,  or  liable  to  be  much  affected  by  his  conduct  ;  what 
greater  diflicultj^  is  there  in  supposing,  that  the  prayers  of  an  in- 
dividual may  avert  a  calamity  from  multitudes,  or  be  accepted 
to  the  benefit  of  whole  communities  ? 


CHAPTER  III. 

OF  THE  DUTY  AND  EFFICACY  OF  PRAYER,  AS  REPRE- 
SENTED IN  SCRIPTURE. 

THE  reader  will  have  observed,  that  the  reflections  stated  in 
the  preceding  chapter,  whatever  truth  and  weight  they  may  be 
allowed  to  contain,  rise  many  of  them  no  higher  than  to  nega- 
tive arguments  in  favour  of  the  propriety  of  addressing  prayer  to 
God.  To  prove  that  the  efficacy  of  prayers  is  not  inconsistent 
with  the  attributes  of  the  Deity,  does  not  prove  that  prayers  are 
actually  efficacious  :  and  in  the  want  of  that  unequivocal  testi* 
mony  which  experience  alone  could  afford  to  this  point,  (but 
>vhich  we  do  not  possess,  and  have  seen  good  reason  why  we  are 
not  to  expect,)  the  light  of  nature  leaves  us  to  controverted  prob-i' 
abilities,  drawn  from  the  impulse  by  which  mankind  have  been 
almost  universally  prompted  to  devotion,  and  from  some  benefit 
cial  purposes,  which,  it  is  conceived,  may  be  better  answered 
by  the  audience  of  prayer  than  by  any  other  mode  of  communi- 
cating the  same  blessings.  The  revelations  which  we  deem  au- 
thentic, completely  supply  this  defect  of  natural  religion.  They 
require  praj^er  to  God  as  a  duty  ;  and  they  contain  positive  as- 
surances of  its  eflacacy  and  acceptance.  We  could  have  no  rea- 
sonable motive  for  the  exercise  of  prayer,  without  believing  that 
it  may  avail  to  the  relief  of  our  wants  This  belief  can  only  be 
founded,  either  in  a  sensible  experience  of  the  effect  of  prayer, 
9V  in  promises  of  acceptance  signified  by  divine  authority.     Our 


254  OF  PRAYER. 

knowledge  noulil  liavc  come  to  us  in  llie  former  way,  less  capa- 
ble, indeed,  of  doubt,  but  subjected  to  the  abuses  and  inconve- 
niences briefly  described  above  ;  in  the  latter  way,  that  i.>,  by 
authorizing  signification?  of  God's  general  disposition  to  hear  and 
answer  the  devout  supplications  of  his  creatures,  we  are  encour- 
aged to  pray,  but  not  to  place  such  a  dependence  ujion  prayer, 
as  might  relax  other  obligations,  or  confound  the  order  of  events 
and  human  expectations. 

The  Scriptures  not  only  affirm  the  propriety  of  prayer  in  gen- 
eral, but  furnish  precepts  or  examples  which  justify  some  topics 
and  modes  of  prayer  that  have  been  thought  exceptionable. 
And  as  the  whole  subject  rests  so  much  upon  the  foundation  of 
Scripture,  I  shall  put  down  at  length,  texts  applicable  to  the  five 
following  heads  :  to  the  duty  and  efficacy  of  prayer  in  general  ; 
of  prayer  for  particular  favours  by  name;  for  public  national 
blessings  ;  of  intercession  for  others  ;  of  the  repetition  of  unsuc- 
cessful prayers. 

1.  Texts  enjoining  prayer  in  general  :  "  Ask,  and  it  shall  be 
"given  you  ;  seek,  and  ye  shall  find. — If  ye,  being  evil,  know 
"  how  to  give  good  gifts  unto  your  children,  bow  much  more 
"  shall  your  Father,  which  is  in  heaven,  give  good  things  to  them 
"  that  ask  him  ?'' — "  Watch  ye,  therefore,  and  pray  always,  that 
*' ye  may  be  accounted  worthy  to  escape  all  those  things  that 
"  shall  come  to  pass,  and  to  stand  before  the  Son  of  Man." — 
"  Serving  the  Lord,  rejoicing  in  hope,  patient  in  tribulation,  con- 
"  tinning  {nstant  in  prayer.^'' — "Be  careful  for  nothing,  but  in 
"  every  thing  by  prayer  and  supplication,  with  thanksgiving,  let 
*'  your  requests  be  made  known  unto  God." — "  I  will,  therefore, 
"  that  men  pray  every  rchcre,  lifting  up  holy  hands  without  wrath 
^  and  doubting." — '■'■  Pray  •jcithovt  qeasing."  Matt.  vii.  7,  11  ; 
Luke,  xxi.  36  ;  Rom.  xii.  12  ;  Philip,  iv.  6  ;  1  Thess.  v.  17  ; 
1  Tim.  ii.  8.  Add  to  these,  that  Christ's  reproof  of  the  ostenta- 
tion and  prolixity  of  pharisaical  prayers,  and  his  recommenda- 
tion to  his  disciples  of  retirement  and  simplicity  in  theirs,  togeth- 
er with  bis  dictating  a  particular  form  of  prayer,  all  presuppose 
prayer  to  be  an  acceptable  and  availins  service. 


OF  PRAYER..  255 

t.  Examples  of  prayer  for  particular  favours  by  name  :  "For 
•'  this  thing  (to  wit,  some  bodily  infirmity,  which  he  calls  '  a 
"  thorn  given  him  in  the  flesh')  I  besought  the  Lord  thrice,  that 
"  it  might  depart  from  me." — "  Night  and  day  praying  exceed- 
"  ingly,  that  we  might  see  your  face,  and  perfect  that  which  is 
"  lacking  in  your  faith."   2  Cor.  xii.  8  ;    1  Thess.  iii.  10. 

3.  Directions  to  pray  for  national  or  public  blessings  :  "  Pray 
■'■for  the  peace  (f  Jerusalem.'''' — "  Ask  ye  of  the  Lord  rain,  in 
"  the  time  of  the  latter  rain  ;  so  the  Lord  shall  make  bright 
'•  clouds,  and  give  them  showers  of  rain,  to  every  one  grass  in 
"  the  field." — "  1  exhort,  therefore,  that  first  of  all,  supplications, 
*'  prayers,  intercessions,  and  giving  of  thanks,  be  made  for  all 
"  men  ;  for  kings,  and  for  f?ll  that  are  in  authority,  that  we  may 
"  lead  a  quiet  and  peaceable  life,  in  all  godliness  and  honesty  ; 
"  for  this  is  good  and  acceptable  in  the  sight  of  God  our  Saviour." 
Psalm  cxxii.  6  ;  Zech.  x.  1  ;    1  Tim.  ii.  1,  2,  3. 

4.  Examples  of  intercession,  and  exhortations  to  intercede  for 
others  : — "  And  Moses  besought  the  Lord  his  God,  and  said, 
"  Lord,  why  doth  thy  wratli  wax  hot  against  thy  people  ?  Re- 
*'  meml)er  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Israel,  thy  servants.  And  the 
"  Lord  repented  of  the  evil  which  he  thought  to  do  unto  his  peo- 
'•  pie." — "  Peter  therefore  was  kept  in  prison,  but  prayer  was 
•'  made  without  ceasing  of  the  Church  unto  God ybr/»m." — "  For 
"  God  is  my  witness,  that  without  ceasing  I  viake  mention  of  you 
"  always  in  my  prayers.'''' — "  Now  I  beseech  you,  brethren,  for 
*'  the  Lord  .Jesus  Christ's  sake,  and  for  the  love  of  the  Spirit,  thai 
"  ye  strive  together  with  me  in  your  prayers  for  me.'''' — "  Con- 
•'  fess  your  faults  one  to  another,  and  pray  one  for  another,  that 
"  ye  may  be  healed  :  the  effectual  fervent  prayer  of  a  righteous 
■' man  availeth  much."  Exod.  xxxii.  11;  Acts,  xii.  5;  Rom. 
},  ^.     XV.  30  ;  James,  v.  IG. 

5.  Declarations  and  examples  authorizing  the  repetition  of  un- 
successful prayers  :  "  And  he  spoke  a  parable  unto  them,  to 
"  this  end,  that  men  ought  always  to  pray,  and  not  to  fiiint." — • 
"'  And  he  left  them,  anci  \v'ent  away  again,  and  prayed  the  third 


f^i. 


26C  OF  PRAYER. 

"  time,  suijing  the  some  ivords.'" — "  For  this  tiling  I  besought  the 
"  Lord  thrice,  that  it  might  depart  from  me."  Luke,  xviii.  1  ; 
Matt.  xxvi.  44.  2  Cor.  xii.  8.* 


CHAPTER  IV. 

OF    PRIVATE    PRAYER,   FAMILY     PRAYER,     AND    PUBLIC 
WORSHIP. 

CONCERNING  these  three  descriptions  of  devotion,  it  is 
first  of  all  to  he  observed,  that  thej  have  each  their  separate 
and  peculiar  use  ;  and  therefore,  that  the  exercise  of  one  spe- 
cies of  worship,  however  regular  it  be,  does  not  supersede  or 
dispense  with  the  obligation  of  either  of  the  other  two. 

L  Private  prayer  is  recommended  for  the  sake  of  the  fol- 
lowing advantages  : 

Private  wants  cannot  always  be  raade  the  subject  of  public 
prayer  ;  but  whatever  reason  there  is  for  praying  at  all,  there  is 
the  same  for  making  the  sore  and  grief  of  each  man's  own  heart 
the  business  of  his  application  to  God.  This  must  be  the  office 
of  private  exercises  of  devotion,  being  imperfectly,  if  at  all< 
practicable  in  any  other. 

Private  prayer  is  generally  more  hearty  and  earnest  than  the 
share  we  are  capable  of  taking  in  joint  acts  of  worship  ;  because 

*  The  reformed  churches  of  Christendom,  sticking  close  in  this  article 
to  their  guide,  have  laid  aside  prayers  for  the  dead,  as  authorized  by  no 
precept  or  precedent  found  in  Scripture.  For  the  same  reason  they  prop- 
erly reject  the  invocation  of  saints ;  as  also,  because  such  invocations  sup- 
pose, in  the  saints  whom  they  address,  a  knowledge  which  can  perceive 
what  passes  in  different  regions  of  the  earth  at  the  same  time.  And  they 
deem  it  too  much  to  take  for  granted,  without  the  smallest  intimatfon  of 
such  a  thing  in  Scripture,  that  any  created  being  possesses  a  faculty  little 
short  of  that  omniscience  and  omnipresence  which  they  ascribe  to  the 
Deity. 


OF  PRAYER.  257 

it  affords  leisure  and  opportunity  for  the  circumstantial  recollec- 
tion of  those  personal  wants,  by  the  remembrance  and  ideas  ot 
which  the  warmth  and  earnestness  of  prayer  is  chiefly  excited. 

Private  prayer,  in  proportion  as  it  is  usually  accompanied  with 
more  actual  thought  and  reflection  uf  the  petitioner's  own,  has  a 
greater  tendency  than  other  modes  of  devotion  to  revive  and 
fasten  upon  the  mind  the  general  impressions  of  religion.  Soli- 
tude powerfully  assists  this  effect.  When  a  man  finds  himself 
alone  in  communication  with  his  Creator,  his  imagination  becomes 
filled  with  a  conflux  of  awful  ideas  concerning  the  universal  agen- 
cy^  and  invisible  presence,  of  that  Being  ;  concerning  what  is 
likely  to  become  of  himself;  and  of  the  superlative  importance 
of  j)roviding  for  the  happiness  of  his  future  existence,  by  endea- 
vours to  please  him,  vfho  is  the  arbiter  of  his  de<tiny  ;  reflections^ 
which,  whenever  they  gain  admittance,  for  a  season  overwhelm 
all  others  ;  and  leave,  when  they  depart,  a  solemnity  u])on  the/ 
thoughts,  that  will  seldom  fail,  in  some  degree,  to  effect  the  con- 
duct of  life. 

Private  prayer,  thus  recommended  by  its  own  propriety,  and 
by  advantages  not  attainable  in  any  form  of  religious  communion, 
receives  a  superior  sanction  from  the  authority  and  example  of 
Christ  :  "  When  thou  prayest,  enter  into  thy  closet  ;  and  when 
"  thou  hast  shut  thy  door,  pray  to  thy  Father,  which  is  in  secret ; 
"  and  thy  Father,  which  seeth  in  secret,  shall  reward  th^^e  onen- 
"  !y." — "  And  when  he  had  sent  the  multitudes  away,  he  went 
••  up  into  a  mountain  apart  to  pray.''''     Matt.  vi.  G.  xiv.  23. 

H.   Family  prayer. 

The  peculiar  use  of  family  piety  consisfs  in  its  influence  upon 
servants,  and  the  yoiJTng  members  of  a  family,  who  want  sufficient 
seriousness  andreflection  to  retire  of  their  own  accord  to  the  ex- 
ercise of  private  devotion,  and  whose  attention  y'o4^-(^i)not  easily 
command  in  public  worship.  The  example  also  and 'authority 
of  a  father  and  master  act  in  this  way  with  the  greatest  force  ; 
for  his  private  prayers,  to  which  his  children  and  servants  are 
not  witnesses,  act  not  at  all  upon  them  as  examples  ;  and  his  at- 
33 


258  OF  PRAYER. 

tendance  upon  public  worship  they  will  readily  impute  to  fnsh- 
ion,  to  a  care  to  preserve  appearances,  to  a  concern  for  decency 
and  character,  and  to  many  motives  besides  a  sense  of  duty  to 
God.  Add  to  tliis,  tliat  forms  of  public  worship  in  ]iroportioii  as 
they  are  more  comprehensive,  are  always  less  interesting  than 
family  prayers  ;  and  that  the  ardour  of  devotion  is  better  sup- 
ported, and  the  sympathy  more  easily  propagated,  through  a 
small  assembly  connected  by  the  affections  of  domestic  society, 
than  in  the  presence  of  a  mixed  congregation. 

III.   Puhlic  worship. 

If  the  worship  of  God  be  a  duty  of  religion,  pubTc  worship  is 
a  necessary  institution  ;  forasmuch  as,  without  it,  the  greater 
part  of  mankind  would  exercise  no  religous  worship  at  all. 

These  assemblies  afford  also,  at  the  same  time,  opportunities 
for  moral  and  religious  instruction  to  those  who  otherwise  would 
receive  none.  In  all  Protestant,  and  in  most  Christian  countries 
the  elements  of  natural  religion,  and  the  important  parts 
of  the  evangelic  history,  are  familiar  to  the  lowest  of  the  peo- 
ple. This  competent  degree  and  general  diffusion  of  religious 
knowledge  amongst  all  orders  of  Christians,  which  will  appear  a 
great  thing  when  compared  with  the  intellectual  condition  of  bar- 
barous nations,  can  fairly,  I  think,  be  ascribed  to  no  other  cause 
than  the  regular  establishment  of  assemblies  for  divine  worship  ; 
in  which,  either  portions  of  Scripture  are  recited  and  explained, 
or  the  principles  of  Christian  erudition  are  so  constantly  taught 
in  sermons,  incorporated  with  liturgies,  or  expressed  in  extem- 
pore prayer,  as  to  in>print,  by  the  wry  repetition,  some  know- 
ledge and  memory  of  these  subjects  upon  the  most  unqualificil 
and  careless  hearer. 

The  two  reasons  above  stated,  bind  all  the  members  of  a  com- 
munity to  uphold  public  worship  by  their  pr.esence  and  example, 
although  the  helps  and  opportunities  which  it  atTords  may  not  he 
necessary  to  the  devotion  or  edification  of  all  ;  and  to  some  may 
be  useless  :  for  it  is  easily  foreseen,  how  soon  religious  assem- 
blies would  fall  into  contempt  and  disuse,  if  that  class  of  mankind 


OF  TRAYER.  259 

who  are  above  seeking  instruction  in  them,  and  want  not  that 
their  own  piety  should  be  assisted  by  either  forms  or  society  in 
devotion,  were  to  withdraw  their  attendance  ;  especially  when 
it  is  considered,  that  ail  vvho  please,  are  at  liberty  to  rank  them.- 
selves  of  this  class.  This  argument  meets  the  following,  and  the 
only  serious  apology  that  is  made  for  the  absenting  of  ourselves 
from  public  worship.  "  Surely  I  may  be  excused  trom  going  to 
"  church,  so  long  as  I  pray  at  home  ;  and  have  no  reason  to 
"  doubt  but  that  my  prayers  are  equally  acceptable  and  effica- 
"  cious  in  my  closet  as  in  a  cathedral  ;  still  less  can  I  think  my- 
^'  self  obliged  to  sit  out  a  tedious  sermon,  in  order  to  hear  what 
"  is  known  already,  or  better  learnt  from  books,  or  suggested  by 
■■'  meditation."  They,  whose  qualifications  and  habits  best  sup- 
ply to  t^homsehes  all  the  effect  of  public  ordinances,  will  be  the 
last  to  prefer  this  excuse,  when  they  reflect  upon  Ihe  general 
consequence  of  setting  up  such  an  exemption,  as  well  as  the  turn. 
which  is  sure  to  be  given  in  the  neighbourhood  to  their  absence 
from  public  worship.  You  stay  from  church,  to  employ  the 
Sabbath  at  home  in  exercises  and  studies  suited  to  its  proper  bu- 
siness :  your  next  neighbor  stays  from  church,  to  spend  the  se- 
venth day  less  religiously  than  he  passed  any  of  the  six,  in  a 
sieepy,  stupid  rest,  or  at  some  rendezvous  of  drunkenness  and 
debauchery,  and  yet  thinks  that  he  is  only  imitating  you,  be- 
cause you  both  agree  in  not  going  to  church.  The  same  consid- 
eratio)!  should  overrule  many  small  scruples  concerning  the  rigo- 
rous propriety  of  some  things  which  may  be  contained  in  the 
fonns,  or  admitted  into  the  administration  of  the  public  worship 
of  our  communion  :  foi',  it  seems  impossible  that  even  "  two  oi 
"  three  should  be  gathered  together"  in  any  act  of  social  worship^ 
if  eacii  one  require  from  the  rest  an  implicit  submission  to  his 
objections,  and  if  no  man  will  attend  upon  a  religious  service 
which  in  any  point  contradicts  his  opinion  of  truth,  or  falls  short 
of  his  ideas  of  perfection. 

Beside  the  direct  necessity  of  public  worship  to  the   greater 
part  of  every  Christinn  community,  (supposing  worship  at  ^11  1*^ 


g'60  OF  PRAYKR. 

/ 

be  a  Christian  duly,)  there  are  other  valuable  advantage*  grow- 
ing out  of  the  use  of  religious  assen)blies,  without  being  design- 
ed in  the  institution,  or  thought  of  by  the  individuals  who  com- 
pose them. 

1.  Joining  in  prayer  and  praises  to  their  common  Creator 
and  governor,  has  a  sensible  tendency  to  unite  mankind  togeth- 
er, and  to  cherish  and  enlarge  the  generous  affections. 

So  many  pathetic  reflections  are  awakened  by  every  exercise 
of  social  devotion,  that  nio?t  men,  I  believe,  carry  away  trom 
public  worship  a  better  temper  towards  the  rest  of  mankind, 
than  they  brought  with  them.  Sprung  from  the  same  extrac- 
tion, preparing  together  for  the  period  of  all  worldly  distinctions, 
reminded  of  their  mutual  infirmities  and  common  dependency, 
imploring  and  receiving  support  and  supplies  from  the  same 
great  source  of  power  .and  bounty,  having  all  one  interest  to  se- 
cure, one  Lord  to  serve,  one  judgment,  the  supreme  object  to 
all  their  hopes  and  fcais,  to  look  towards  ;  it  is  hardly  possible, 
in  this  position,  to  behold  mankind  as  strangers,  competitors,  or 
enemies  ;  or  not  to  regard  them  as  children  of  the  same  family, 
assembled  before  their  common  parent,  and  with  some  portion 
of  the  tendtrness  which  belongs  to  the  most  endearing  of  our 
domestic  relations.  It  is  not  to  be  expected,  that  any  single 
effect  of  this  kind  should  be  considerable  or  lasting  ;  but  the 
frequent  return  of  such  sentiments  as  the  presence  of  a  devout 
congregation  naturally  suggests,  will  gradually  melt  down  the 
ruggedness  of  many  unkind  passions,  and  may  generate  in  time 
a  permanent  and  productive  benevolence. 

2.  Assemblies  for  the  purpose  of  divine  worship,  })lacing 
men  under  impressions  by  which  they  are  taught  to  consider 
their  relation  to  the  Deity,  and  to  contemplate  those  around 
them  with  a  view  to  that  relation,  force  upon  their  thoughts  the 
natural  equality  of  the  human  species,  and  thereby  promote  hu- 
mility and  condescension  in  the  highest  orders  of  the  communi- 
ty, and  inspire  the  lowest  with  a  sense  of  their  rights.  The 
distinctions  of  civil  life   arc   almost  always   insisted   upon   too 


OF  PRAYER.  261 

much,  and  urged  too  far.  Whatever,  therefore,  conduces  to 
restore  the  level,  by  qualifying  the  dispositions  which  grow  out 
of  great  elevation  or  depression  of  rank,  improves  the  character 
on  both  sides.  Nou^  things  are  made  to  appear  little,  by  being 
placed  beside  what  is  great.  In  which  manner,  superiorities, 
which  occupy  the  whole  field  of  the  imagination,  will  vanish  or 
shrink  to  their  proper  dirainutiveness,  when  compared  with  the 
distance  by  which  even  the  highest  of  men  are  removed  from 
the  Supreme  Being  ;  and  this  comparison  is  naturally  introdu- 
ced by  all  acts  of  joint  worship.  If  ever  the  poor  man  holds  up 
his  head,  it  is  at  church  :  if  ever  the  rich  man  views  him  with 
respect  it  is  there  ;  and  both  will  be  the  better,  and  the  public 
profited,  the  oftcner  they  meet  in  a  situation,  in  which  the  con- 
sciousness of  dignity  in  the  one  is  tempered  and  mitigated,  and 
the  spirit  of  the  other  erected  and  confirmed.  We  recommend 
nothing  adverse  to  subordinations  which  are  established  and 
necessary  ;  but  then  it  should  be  remembered,  that  subordina- 
tion itself  is  an  evil,  being  an  evil  to  the  subordinate,  who  are 
the  majority,  and  therefore  ought  not  to  be  carried  a  tittle  be- 
yond what  the  greater  good,  the  peaceable  government  of  the 
community,  requires. 

The  public  worship  of  Christians  is  a  duty  of  divine  ap- 
pointment. "  Where  two  or  three,"  says  Christ,  "  are  gath- 
"  ered  together  in  my  name,  there  am  I  in  the  midst  of  them  ;" 
Matt,  xviii.  20.  This  invitation  will  want  nothing  of  the  force 
of  a  command  with  those  who  respect  the  person  and  authority 
from  which  it  proceeds.  Again,  in  the  epistle  to  the  Hebrews  ; 
"•  Not  forsaking  the  assembling  of  ourselves  together,  as  the 
"  manner  of  some  is,"  Heb.  x.  25  ;  which  reproof  seetns  as  ap- 
plicable to  the  desertion  of  our  public  worship  at  this  day,  as  to 
the  forsaking  the  religious  a.'semblies  o/  Christians  in  the  age  of 
the  Apostle.  Independently  of  these  passages  of  Scripture,  a  dis- 
ciple of  Chistianity  will  hardly  think  himself  at  liberty  to  dis- 
pute a  practice  set  on  foot  by  the  inspired  preachers  of  his  re- 
ligion, coeval  with  its  institution,  and  retained  by  every  ?tcl 
into  which  it  has  been  since  divided. 


262  OF  PRAYER. 

CHAPTER  V. 

OF  FORMS  OF  PRAYER  IN  PUBLIC  WORSHIP. 

LITURGIES,  or  preconcerted  forms  of  public  devotion,  being 
neither  enjoined  nor  forbidden  in  Scrii)ture,  there  can  be  no 
good  reason  either  lor  receiving  or  rejecting  them,  but  that  of 
expediency  ;  which  expediency  is  to  be  gathered  from  a  com- 
parison of  the  advantages  and  disadvantages  attending  u|;on  this 
mode  of  worship,  with  those  which  usually  accompany  extem- 
porary prayer. 

The  advantages  of  a  liturgy  are  these  : 

I.  That  it  prevents  absurd,  extravagant,  or  impious  addres- 
ses to  God,  which  the  folly  and  enthusiasm  of  many,  in  an  order 
of  men  so  numerous  as  the  sacerdotal,  must  always  be  in  dan- 
ger of  producing,  where  the  conduct  of  the  public  worship  is 
entrusted,  without  restraint  or  assistance,  to  the  discretion  and 
abilities  of  the  officiating  minister. 

II.  That  it  prevents  the  con/i/s?o?j  of  extemporary  prayer,  in 
■which  the  congregation  being  ignorant  of  each  petition  be- 
fore they  hear  it,  and  having  little  or  no  time  to  join  in  it,  after 
they  have  heard  it,  are  confounded  between  their  attention  to  the 
minister,  and  to  their  own  devotion.  The  devotion  of  the  hearer 
is  necessarily  suspended,  until  a  petition  be  concluded  ;  and  be- 
fore he  can  assent  to  it,  or  properly  adopt  it,  that  is,  before  he 
can  address  the  same  request  to  God  for  himself,  and  from  himself, 
his  attention  is  called  off  to  keep  pace  with  what  succeeds.  Add 
to  this,  that  the  mind  of  the  hearer  is  held  in  continual  expecta- 
tion, and  detained  from  its  proper  business  by  the  very  novelty 
with  which  it  is  gratified.  A  congregation  may  be  pleased  and 
affected  with  the  prayers  and  devotion  of  their  minister,  without 
joining  in  them  ;  in  liUc  manner  as  an  audience  oftentimes  are 
with  the  representation  of  devotion  upon  tlic  stage,  who,  never^ 


OF  PRAYER.  263 

theless,  come  away  without  being  conscious  cf  having  exercised 
an V  act  of  devotion  themselves.  /o?'?ii' prayer,  which  is  the  duty, 
and  amongst  ail  denoiiiiiiajions  of  Christians  the  declared  design 
of "  coming  together,"  is  prayer  in  which  all  join;  and  not 
that  which  one  alone  in  the  congregation  conceives  and  delivers, 
and  of  which  the  rest  are  merely  hearers.  This  objection 
seems  fundinental,  and  holds  even  whoe  the  minister's  office  is 
discharged  with  every  possible  advantage  and  accomplishment. 
The  labouring  recollection  and  embarrassed  or  tumultuous  de- 
livery, of  many  extempore  speakers,  form  an  additional  objec- 
tion to  this  mode  of  public  worship  ;  for  these  imperfections 
are  very  general,  and  give  great  pain  to  the  serious  part  of  a 
congregation,  as  well  as  afTord  a  profane  diversion  to  the  levity  of 
Ihc  other  part. 

These  advantages  of  a  liturgy  arc  connected  with  tw-o  |)rinci- 
pal  incoriveniences  ;  first,  That  fonns  of  prayer  compo^^ed  in 
one  age  become  unfit  for  another,  by  the  unavoidable  change  of 
language,  circumstances  and  o[)inions  :  secondly,  That  the  per- 
petual repetition  of  the  same  form  of  words  produces  weariness 
tiU'l  inattentivenesis  in  the  congregation.  However,  both  thtse 
inconveniences  are  in  their  nature  vincible.  Occasional  revis- 
ions of  a  liturgy  may  obviate  the  (irst,  and  devotion  will  supply 
a  remedy  for  the  second  ;  or  Ihev  may  both  subsist  in  a  coosid- 
erable  degree,  and  yet  be  outweighed  by  the  objections  which 
are  inseparable  from  extemporary  prayer. 

The  Lord's  Prayer  is  a  precedent,  as  well  as  a  pattern,  for 
forms  of  prayer.  Our  Lord  appears,  if  not  to  have  prescribed, 
at  least  to  have  authorized  the  use  of  fixed  t'orms,  when  he  com- 
plied with  the  request  of  the  disciple  who  said  unto  him,  "  I-ord, 
'■  teach  us  to  pray,  as  John  also  taught  his  disciples."  Luke, 
\i.  1. 

The  properties  required  in  a  public  liturgy  are,  that  it  be 
•  naipendious  ;  that  it  express  just  conceptions  of  the  divine  at- 
tributes ;  that  it  recite  such  wants  as  the  congregation  are  like- 
ly to  feel,  and  no  other ;  and  that  it  contain  as  few  controverted 
propositions  as  possible. 


264  OF  PRAYER. 

I.   Thai  it  be  co;n[)eiidi0iis. 

It  were  no  dillicult  task  to  contract  the  liturgies  ot  most! 
churches  into  half  their  present  compass,  and  yet  retain  every 
distinct  petition,  as  well  as  the  substance  of  every  sentiment, 
which  can  be  found  in  them.  But  brevity  may  be  studied  too 
much.  The  composer  of  a  liturgy  must  not  sit  down  to  his 
work  with  the  hope,  that  the  devotion  of  the  congregation  will 
be  uniformly  sustained  throughout,  or  that  every  part  will  be  at- 
tended to  by  every  hearer.  If  this  could  be  depended  upon  a 
very  short  service  would  be  sufficient  for  every  purpose  that 
can  be  answered  or  designed  by  social  worship  ;  but  seeing  the 
attention  of  most  men  is  apt  to  wander  and  return  at  intervals, 
and  by  starts,  he  will  admit  a  certain  degree  of  amplification 
and  repetition,  of  diversity  of  expression  upon  the  same  subject, 
and  variety  of  phrase  and  form  with  little  addition  to  the  sense, 
to  the  end  that  the  attention,  which  has  been  slumbering  or  ab- 
sent during  one  part  of  the  service,  may  be  excited  and  recal- 
led by  another;  and  the  assembly  kept  together  until  it  may 
reasonably  be  persumed,  that  the  most  heedless  and  inadver- 
tent have  performed  some  act  of  devotion,  and  the  most  desul- 
tory attention  been  caught  by  some  part  or  other  of  the  public 
service.  On  the  other  hand,  the  too  great  length  of  church  ser- 
vices is  more  unfavorable  to  piety  than  almost  any  fault  of 
composition  can  be.  It  begets,  in  many,  an  early  and  uncon- 
querable dislike  to  the  public  worship  of  their  country  or  com- 
munion. They  come  to  church  seldom  ;  and  enter  the  doors, 
when  they  do  come,  under  the  apprehension  of  a  tedious  atten- 
dance, which  they  prepare  for  at  first,  or  soon  after  relieve,  by 
composing  themselves  to  a  drowsy  forgetfulness  of  the  place 
and  duly,  or  by  sending  abroad  their  thoughts  in  search  of  more 
amusing  occupation.  Although  there  may  be  some  few  of  a 
disposition  not  to  be  wearied  with  religious  exercises  ;  yet, 
where  a  ritual  is  prolix,  and  the  celebration  of  divine  service 
long,  no  effect,  is  in  general  to  be  looked  for,  but  that  indolence 
will  find  in  it  an  excuse,  and  piety  be  disconcerted  by  im- 
patience. 


OF  PRAYER.  265 

The  length  and  repetitions  complained  of  in  our  liturgy,  are 
not  so  much  the  fault  of  the  compilers,  as  the  cficct  of  uniting 
into  one  service  what  was  originally,  but  with  very  little  regard 
to  the  conveniency  of  the  people,  distributed  into  three.  Not- 
withstanding that  dread  of  innovations  in  religion,  which  seems 
to  have  become  the  panic  of  the  age,  few,  I  should  suppose, 
wou'd  be  displeased  with  such  omissions,  abridgments,  or 
change  in  the  arrangement,  as  the  combination  of  separate  ser- 
vices must  necessarily  require,  even  supposing  each  to  have 
been  taultless  in  itself.  If,  together  with  these  alterations,  the 
Epistles  and  Gospels,  and  collects  which  precede  them,  were 
composed  and  selected  with  more  regard  to  unity  of  subject  and 
design  ;  and  the  Psalms  and  Lessons  eitlier  left  to  the  choice  of 
the  minister,  or  better  accommodated  to  the  capacity  of  the  au- 
dience, and  the  edification  of  modeiii  life  ;  the  church  of  Eng- 
land would  be  in  possession  of  a  liturgy,  in  which  those  who  as- 
sent to  her  doctrines  would  have  little  to  blame,  and  the  most 
dissatisfied  must  acknovvlcdge  many  beauties.  The  style 
throughout  is  excellent  ;  calm,  without  coldness  ;  and  though  ev- 
ery where  sedate,  oftentimes  affecting.  The  pauses  in  the  ser- 
vice are  tlisposed  at  p>roper  intervals.  The  transitions  from  one 
ofiice  of  devotion  to  another,  from  confession  to  prayer,  from 
prayer  to  thanksgiving,  from  thanksgiving  to  "  hearing  of  the 
word,"  are  contrived,  like  scenes  in  the  drama,  to  supply  the 
mind  with  a  succession  of  diversified  engagements.  As  much 
variety  is  introduced  also  into  the  form  of  praying,  as  this  kind 
of  composition  seems  capable  of  admitting.  The  prayer  at  one 
time  is  continued  ;  at  another,  broken  by  responses,  or  cast  into 
short  alternate  ejaculations  ;  and  sometimes  the  congregation  are 
called  upon  to  take  their  share  in  the  service,  by  being  left  to 
complete  a  sentence  which  the  minister  had  begun.  The  enu- 
rwention  of  human  wants  and  sufferings  in  the  Litany  is  almost 
complete.  A  Christian  petitioner  can  have  few  things  to  ask  of 
Ciod,  or  deprecate,  which  he  will  not  find  there  expressed,  and 
ior  the  most  part  with  inimitable  tenderness  and  simplicity. 
34 


2Gt;  OF  PRAYER. 

II.  That  it  express  just  conceptions  of  the  divine  attributes. 
This  is  an  article  in   which  no  care   cr^n  be   too  great.     The 

popular  notions  of  God  are  formed,  in  a  great  measure,  from  the 
account;^  which  the  people  receive  of  his  nature  and  character  in 
their  religious  assemblies.  An  error  here  becomes  the  error  of 
multitudes  ;  and  as  it  is  a  subject  in  which  almost  every  opinion 
lends  the  way  to  some  practical  conclusion,  the  purity  or  depra- 
vation of  public  manners  will  be  affected,  amongst  other  causes, 
by  the  truth  or  corruption  of  the  public  forms  of  worship. 

III.  That  it  recite  such  w^ants  as  the  congregation  are  likely 
to  feel,  aftd  no  »ther. 

Of  forms  of  prayer,  which  offend  not  egregiously  against  truth 
and  decency,  that  has  the  most  merit,  which  is  best  calculated  to 
keep  alive  the  devotion  of  the  assembly.  It  were  to  be  wished, 
therefore,  that  every  part  of  a  liturgy  were  personally  applica- 
ble to  every  individual  in  the  congregation  ;  and  that  nothing 
were  introduced  to  interrupt  the  passion,  or  damp  the  flame, 
which  it  is  not  easy  to  re-kindle.  Upon  this  principle,  the  state 
prayers  in  our  liturgy  should  be  fewer  and  shorter.  Whatever 
may  be  pretended,  the  congregation  do  not  feel  that  concern  irv 
the  subject  of  these  prayers,  which  must  be  felt,  or  ever  prayer 
be  made  to  God  with  earnestness.  The  s(af?.  style  likewise  seems 
unseasonably  introduced  into  these  prayers,  as  ill  according  with 
that  annihilation  of  human  greatness,  of  which  every  act  that 
carries  the  mind  to  God  presents  tl;ie  idea. 

IV.  That  it  contain  as  few  controverted  propositions  as  possi- 
ble. 

We  allow  to  each  church  the  truth  of  its  peculiar  tenets,  and 
all  the  importance  which  zeal  can  ascribe  to  them.  We  dispute 
not  here  the  right  or  the  expediency  of  framing  creeds,  or  of  im- 
posing  subscriptions.  But  why  should  every  position  which  a 
church  maintains,  be  woven  with  so  much  industry  into  her  forms 
of  public  worship  ?  Some  are  offended,  and  some  are  excluded  : 
this  is  an  evil  in  itself,  at  least  to  them;  and  what  advantage  or 
■?atisfaclion  can  be  derived  to  the  rest,  from  the  separation  of 


SABBATICAL  INSTITUTIONS.  267 

tbeir  brethren,  it  is  difficult  to  imagine  ;  unless  it  were  a  duty 
io  publish  our  system  of  polemic  divinity,  under  the  name  ot" 
making  confession  of  our  faith,  every  time  we  worship  God  ;  or 
a  sin  to 'agree  in  religious  exercises  with  those  from  whom  we 
differ  in  some  religious  opinions.  Indeed,  where  one  man  thinks 
it  his  duty  constantly  to  worship  a  being  whom  another  cannot, 
with  the  assent  of  his  conscience,  permit  himself  to  worship  at 
all,  there  seems  to  be  no  place  for  comprehension,  or  any  ex- 
pedient left,  but  a  quiet  secession.  Ail  oiher  differences  may 
be  compromised  by  silence.  If  sects  and  schisms  be  an  evil, 
they  are  as  much  to  be  avoided  by  one  side  as  the  other.  If 
sectaries  are  blamed  for  taking  unnecessary  offence,  established 
churches  are  no  less  culpable  for  unnecessarily  giving  it  ;  or 
bound  at  least  to  produce  a  command,  or  a  reason  of  equivalent 
utility,  for  shutting  out  any  from  their  communion,  by  mixing 
with  divine  worship  doctrines  which,  whether  true  or  false,  are 
■Knconnected  in  their  nature  with  devotion. 


CHAPTER  Vi. 

OF  THE  USE  OF  SABBATICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

AN  assembly  cannot  be  collected,  unless  the  time  of  assom- 
feling  be  fixed  and  known  before-hand  ;  and  if  the  design  ef  the 
assembly  require  that  it  be  held  frequently,  it  is  easiest  thit  it 
should  return  at  stated  intervals.  This  produces  a  necessity  of 
appropriating  set  seasons  to  the  social  offices  of  religion.  It  is 
also  highly  convenient  that  the  same  seasons  be  obs-ij  •  ed  through*- 
out  the  country,  that  all  may  be  employed,  or  all  at  leisure  to- 
gether ;  for  if  the  recess  from  worldly  occupation  be  not  general, 
one  man's  business  will  perpetually  interfere  with  another  man's 
devotion  ;  the  buyer  will  be  calling  at  the  shop  when  the  seller 
is  gone  to  church.     This  part,  therefore,  of  the  religious  distmc- 


268  SABBATICAL  INSTITUTIONS, 

lion  of  seasons  ;  namely,  a  general  intermission  of  labour  and 
business  during  times  previously  set  apart  for  the  exercise  of 
public  worship,  is  founded  in  the  reasons  which  make  public 
worship,  itself  a  duty.  But  the  celebration  of  divine  service 
never  occupies  the  whole  day.  What  remains,  theretore  of  Sun- 
day, beside  the  part  of  it  emi/loyed  at  church  must  be  consider- 
ed as  a  merft  rest  from  the  ordinary  occupations  of  civil  life  ; 
and  he  who  would  defend  the  institution,  as  it  is  required  to  l)e 
observed  in  Christian  countries,  unless  he  can  produce  a  com- 
mand for  a  Chi istian  Sabbath,  must  point  out  the  uses  of  it  in 
that  view. 

First,  then,  that  interval  of  relaxation  vvhicji  Sunday  affords  to 
the  laborious  part  of  mankind,  contributes  gi^eatly  to  the  comfort 
and  satisfaction  of  their  lives,  both  as  it  refreshes  them  for  the 
time,  and  as  it  relieves  their  six  days  labour  by  the  prospect  of 
a  day  of  rest  always  approaching  ;  which  could  not  be  said  of 
casual  indulgences  of  leisure  and  rest,  even  were  they  more  fre- 
quent than  there  is  reason  to  expect  they  would  be,  if  left  to 
the  discretion  or  humanity  of  interested  task-masters.  To  this 
difierence  it  may  be  added,  that  holidays,  which  come  seldom 
and  unex))ectcd,  are  unprovided,  when  they  do  come,  with  any 
duty  or  employment  ;  and  the  manner  of  spending  them  being 
regulated  by  no  public  decency  or  established  usage,  they  are 
commonly  consumed  in  rude,  if  not  criminal  pastimes,  in  a  stupid 
sloth,  or  brutish  intemperance.  Whoever  considers  how  much 
sabbatical  institutions  conduce,  in  this  respect,  to  the  happiness 
and  civilization  of  the  labouring  classes  of  mankind,  and  reflects 
how  great  a  majority  of  the  human  species  these  classes  compose, 
will  acknowledge  the  utility,  whatever  he  may  believe  of  the  or- 
igin, of  this  distinction  ;  and  will  consequently  perceive  it  to  be 
every  man's  duty  to  uphold  the  observation  of  Sunday  when  once 
established,  let  the  establishment  have  proceeded  from  whom  or 
what  authority  it  will. 

Nor  is  there  any  thing  lost  to  the  community  by  the  intermis- 
sion of  public  industry  one  day  in  the  week.     For  in  countries 


SABBATICAL  INSTITUTIONS.  269 

tolerably  advanced  in  population  and  the  arts  of  civil  life,  there 
is  always  enough  of  human  labour,  and  to  spare.  The  difficulty 
is  not  so  much  to  procure,  as  to  employ  it.  The  addition  of  the 
seventh  day's  labour  to  that  of  the  other  six,  would  have  no  oth- 
er effect  than  to  reduce  the  price.  The  labourer  himself,  who 
deserved  and  suffered  most  of  the  change,  would  gain  nothing. 

2.  Sunday,  by  suspending  many  public  diversions,  and  the 
ordinary  rotation  of  employment,  leaves  to  men  of  all  ranks  and 
professions  sufficient  leisure,  and  not  more  than  what  is  sufficient, 
both  for  the  e?iternal  offices  of  Christianity,  and  the  retired,  but 
equally  necessary  duties  of  religious  meditation  and  inquiry.  It 
is  true,  that  many  do  not  convert  their  leisure  to  this  purpose  ; 
but  it  is  of  moment,  and  is  all  which  a  public  institution  can  ef- 
fect, that  to  every  one  be  allowed  the  opportunity. 

3.  They,  whose  humanity  embraces  the  whole  sensitive  crea- 
tion, will  esteem  it  no  inconsiderable  recommendation  of  a  week- 
ly return  of  public  rest,  that  it  affords  a  respite  to  the  toil  of 
brutes.  Nor  can  we  omit  to  recount  this  amongst  the  uses  which 
the  divine  founder  of  the  Jewish  sabbath  expressly  appointed  a 
law  of  the  institution. 

We  admit,  that  none  of  these  reasons  show  why  Sunday  should 
be  preferred  to  any  other  day  in  the  week,  or  one  day  in  seven 
to  one  day  in  six  or  eight ;  but  these  points,  which  in  their  na- 
ture are  of  arbitrary  determination,  being  established  to  our 
hands,  our  obligation  applies  to  the  subsisting  establishment,  so 
long  as  we  confess  that  some  such  institution  is  necessary,  and 
are  neither  able,  nor  attempt  to  substitute  any  other  in  its  place. 


270  SABBATICAL  INSTITUTIOXS. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

OF  THE  SCRIPTURE  ACCOUNT  OF  SABBATICAL  INSTI- 
TUTIONS. 

THE  subject,  so  far  as  it  makes  any  part  of  Christian  uiuiai- 
itj,  is  contained  in  two  questions  : 

I.  Whether  the  command,  by  which  the  Jewish  sabbath  was 
instituted,  extends  to  Christians  ? 

II.  Whether  any  new  command  was  delivered  by  Ciirist  ;  or 
any  other  day  substituted  in  the  place  of  the  Jewish  sabbath  by 
the  authority  or  example  of  his  apostles  ? 

In  treating  of  the  first  question,  it  will  be  necessary  to  collect 
the  accounts  which  are  preserved  of  the  institution  in  the  Jewish 
history  ;  for  the  seeing  these  accounts  together,  and  in  one  point 
of  view,  will  be  the  best  preparation  for  the  discussing  or  judg- 
ing of  any  arguments  on  one  side  or  the  other. 

In  the  second  chapter  of  Genesis,  the  historian  having  conclu- 
ded his  account  of  the  six  days  creation,  proceeds  thus  :  "  And 
"  on  the  seventh  day  God  ended  his  work  which  he  had  made  ; 
"  and  he  rested  on  the  seventh  day  from  all  his  work  which  he 
"  had  made  ;  and  God  blessed  the  seventh  day  and  sanctified  it, 
"  because  that  in  it  he  bad  rested  from  all  his  work  which  God 
*'  created  and  made."  After  this,  we  hear  no  more  of  the  sab- 
bath, or  of  the  seventh  day,  as  in  any  manner  distinguished  from 
the  other  six,  until  the  history  brings  us  down  to  the  sojourning 
of  the  Jews  in  the  wilderness,  when  the  following  remarkable 
passage  occurs.  Upon  the  complaint  of  the  people  for  want  of 
food,  God  was  pleased  to  provide  for  their  relief  by  a  miracu- 
lous supply  of  manna,  which  was  found  every  morning  upon  the 
ground  about  the  camp  when  the  dew  went  off;  "  and  they  gath- 
*'  ered  it  every  morning,  every  man  according  to  his  eating  ;  and 
'''  when  the  sun  waxed  hot,  it  melted  :  And  it  came  to  pass,  that 
■'on  the  sixth  day  they  gathered  twice  as  much  bread,  two 


SABBATICAL  INSTlTUTIOPsS-  271 

'  omers  for  one  man  ;  and  all  the  rulers  of  Ihe  congregation  came 
'■'  and  told  Moses  ;  and  he  said  unto  them,  This  is  that  which 
"  the  Lord  hath  said,  To-morrozo  is  the  rest  of  the  holy  sabbath 
"unto  the  Lord;  bake  that  whi'h  yc  will  bake  to-day,  and 
"  seethe  that  ye  will  seclhe  ;  and  that  which  remaineth  over  lay 
*'  up  for  you,  to  be  kept  until  the  morning.  And  they  laid  it  up 
"  till  the  morning,  as  Moses  bade  ;  and  it  did  not  stink,  (as  it  had 
"  done  before,  when  some  of  them  left  it  till  the  morning,)  nei- 
"  ther  was  there  any  worm  therein.  And  Moses  said,  Eat  that 
"  lo-day  ;  for  to-day  is  a  sabbath  unto  the  Lord,  to-day  ye  shall 
"  not  find  it  in  the  field.  Six  days  ye  shall  gather  it,  but  on  the 
*'  seventh  day,  which  is  the  sabbath,  in  it  there  shall  be  none. 
"  And  it  came  to  pass,  that  there  went  out  some  of  the  people  on 
"  the  seventh  day  for  to  gather,  and  they  found  none.  And  the 
"  Lord  said  unto  Moses,  How  long  refuse  ye  to  keep  my  cora- 
"  mandments  and  my  laws  ?  See,  for  that  the  Lord  hath  given 
"  you  the  Sabbath^  therefore  he  giveth  you  on  th^  sixth  day  the 
"  bread  of  two  days  ;  abide  ye  every  man  in  his  place  ;  let  no 
"  man  go  out  of  his  place  on  the  seventh  day.  So  the  people 
"  rested  on  th(;  seventh  day."  Exodus,  xvi. 

Not  long  after  this,  the  sabbath,  as  is  well  known,  was  estab- 
lished with  great  solemnity  in  the  fourth  commandment. 

Now,  in  my  opinion,  the  transaction  in  the  wilderness  above 
recited,  was  the  first  actual  institution  of  the  sabbath.  For,  if 
the  sabbath  had  been  instituted  at  the  time  of  the  creation,  as 
the  words  in  Genesis  may  seem  at  first  sight  to  import,  and  ob- 
served all  along  from  that  time  to  the  departure  of  the  Jews  out 
of  Egypt,  a  period  of  about  two  thousand  five  hundred  years,  it 
appears  unaccountable  that  no  mention  of  it,  no  occasion  of  even 
the  obscurest  allusion  to  it,  should  occur,  either  in  the  general 
history  of  the  world  before  the  call  of  Abraham,  which  contains, 
we  admit,  only  a  few  memoirs  of  its  early  ages,  and  those  ex- 
tremely abridged  ;  or,  which  is  more  to  be  wondered  at,  in  that 
of  the  lives  of  the  three  first  Jewish  patriarchs,  which,  in  many 
parts  of  the  account,  is  sufficiently  circumstantial  aud  domestic. 


272  SABBATICAL  INSTITUTIONS, 

Nor  is  there,  in  tiie  passage  above  qucjtcd  from  the  sixteenth 
chapter  ot"  Exodus,  any  intimation  that  the  sabbath,  then  ap- 
pointed to  be  observed,  was  only  the  revival  of  an  ancient  insti- 
tution, which  had  been  neglected,  forgotten,  or  suspended  ;  nor 
is  any  such  neglect  imputed  either  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  old 
world,  or  to  any  part  of  the  family  of  Noah  ;  nor^  lastly,  is  any 
lermission  recorded  to  dispense  with  the  institution  during  the 
japtivity  of  the  Jews  in  Egypt,  or  on  any  other  |)ublic  emergency. 
The  passage  in  the  second  chapter  of  Genesis,  which  creates 
the  whole  controversy  upon  the  subject,  is  not  inconsistent  with 
this  opinion  ;  for,  as  the  seventh  day  was  erected  into  a  sabbath, 
on  account  of  God's  resting  upon  that  day  from  the  work  of  the 
creation,  it  was  natural  enough  in  the  historian,  when  he  had  re- 
lated the  history  of  the  creation,  and  of  God's  ceasii?^  from  it  on 
the  seventh  day,  to  add  :  "  And  God  blessed  the  seventh  day, 
"  and  sanctified  it,  because  that  on  it  he  had  rested  from  all  his 
"  work  which  God  created  and  made  ;"  although  the  blef^sing 
and  sanctification,  i.  e.  the  religious  distinction  and  appropria- 
tion of  that  day,  was  not  actually  made  till  many  ages  after- 
wards. The  words  do  not  assert,  that  God  theti  "  blessed"  and 
"  sanctified"  the  seventh  day,  but  that  he  blessed  and  sanctified 
h  for  that  reason  ;  and  if  any  ask,  why  the  sabbath,  or  sanctifi- 
cation of  the  seventh  day,  was  then  mentioned,  if  it  was  not  then 
appointed,  the  answer  is  at  hand  ;  the  order  of  connexion,  and 
not  of  time,  introduced  the  mention  of  the  sabbath,  in  the  history 
of  the  sul>ject  which  it  was  ordained  to  commemorate. 

This  interpretation  is  strongly  supported  by  a  passage  in  the 
prophet  Ezekiel,  where  the  sabbath  is  plainly  spoken  of  as  ^g^tnew  ; 
and  what  else  can  that  mean,  but  as  first  instituted  in  the  wild- 
erness ?  "  Wherefore  I  caused  them  tn  go  forth  out  of  the  land 
"of  Egypt,  and  brought  them  into  the  wilderness  ;  and  1  gave 
"  them  my  statutes  and  shewed  them  my  judgments,  which  if  a 
"  man  do,  he  shall  even  live  in  them  :  moreover  also  1  gave  them 
"  my  sabbaths,  to  be  a  sign  between  me  and  them,  that  they 
"  might  know  that  I  am  the  Lord  that  sanctify  them."  Ezek. 
XX.  10,  11,  12. 


gABBATiCAL  INSTITUTIONS,  2'?3 

Nehetniah  also  recounts  the  promulgation  of  the  sabbatic  law 
amongst  the  transactions  in  the  wilderness  ;  which  supplies  an- 
other considerable  argument  in  aid  of  our  opinion  :— "  Moreover 
"  thou  leddest  them  in  the  day  by  a  cloudy  pillar,  and  in  the 
"  night  by  a  pillar  of  fire,  to  give  them  light  in  the  way  wherein 
"  they  slx)uld  go.  Thou  earnest  down  also  upon  mount  Sinai, 
"and  spakest  with  them  from  heaven,  and  gavest  them  right 
'•'judgments  and  true  laws,  good  statutes  and  commandments, 
'■'  and  madest  known  unto  them  thy  holy  sabbath,  and  commandedst 
"  them  precepts,  statutes,  and  laws,  by  the  hand  of  Moses  thy 
''  servant,  and  gavest  them  bread  from  heaven  for  their  hunger, 
"  and  broughtest  forth  water  for  them  out  of  the  rock."*  Neh. 
jx.  12. 

If  it  be  inquired  what  duties  were  appointed  for  the  Jewish 
sabbath,  and  under  what  penalties  and  in  what  manner  it  was 
observed  amongst  the  ancient  Jews  ;  we  find  that  by  the  fourth 
commandment,  a  strict  cessation  from  work  was  enjoined,  not 
only  upon  Jews  by  birth,  or  religious  profession,  but  upon  all 
who  resided  within  the  limits  of  the  Jewish  state  ;  that  the 
same  was  to  be  permitted  tc  their  slaves  and  their  cattle  ;  that  this 
rest  was  not  to  be  violated,  under  pain  of  death  :  "  Whosoever 
"  doeth  any  work  on  the  sabbath-day,  he  shall  surely  be  put 
"to  death."'  Exod.  x>:xi.  15.  Beside  which,  the  seventh  day 
was  to  be  solemnized  by  double  sacrifices  in  the  temple  : — 
•'  And  on  the  sabbath-day,  tii'O  lambs  of  the  first  year  without 
"  spot,  and  two  tenth  deals  of  flour  for  a  meat-offering,  mingled 
"  with  oil,  and  the  drink-ofifering  thereof;  this  is  the  burnt-offer- 

*  For  the  mention  of  the  sabbath  ia  so  close  a  counexion  with  the  de- 
scent of  God  upon  moinit  Sinai,  and  the  delivery"  of  the  law  from  thence, 
one  would  be  inclined  to  believe,  that  Nehemiah  referred  solely  to  the 
fourth  commandmsnt.  But  the  fourth  commandment  certainly  did  not 
first  make  known  the  sabbath.  And  it  is  apparent  that  Nehemiah  obser- 
ved not  the  order  of  events,  for  he  speaks  of  what  passed  upon  moUnt  Si- 
aai  beibre  hs  mentions  the  miraculous  supplies  of  bread  and  water,  though 
the  .Tews  did  not  arrive  at  mount  Sinai  till  some  time  after  both  tlies^ 
mirailfs  were  wrouscht. 


274  SABBATICAL  INSTITUTlOxN?:. 

"  ing  of  every  . sabbath,  beside  the  continual  buint-oU'ering  Jiid 
"  his  drink-oflering."  Numb,  xxviii.  9,  10.  Also  holy  convo- 
cations,or  assemblies  for  the  purpose,  we  presume  of  public  wor- 
ship or  religious  instruction,  were  directed  to  be  held  on  the 
sabbath-day  :  "  the  seventh  day  is  a  sabbath  of  rest,  an  holy 
convocation."     Levit.  xxiii.  3, 

And  accordingly  we  read,  that  the  sabbath  was  in  f;M:t  obser- 
ved amongst  the  Jews  by  a  scrupulous  abstinence  from  every 
thing  that,  by  any  possible  construction  could  be  deemed  la- 
bour ;  as  from  dressing  meat,  from  travelling,  beyond  a  sab- 
bath-day's journey,  or  about  a  single  mile.  In  the  Maccabean 
wars,  they  suiTered  a  thousand  of  their  number  to  be  slain,  rath- 
er than  do  any  thing  in  their  own  defence  on  the  sabbath-day. 
In  the  final  seige  of  Jerusalem,  alter  they  had  so  far  overcome 
their  scruples,  as  to  defend  their  persons  when  attacked,  they 
refused  any  operation  on  tire  sabbath-day,  by  which  they  might 
have  interrupted  the  enemy  in  filling  up  the  trench.  After  the 
establishment  of  synagogues,  (of  the  origin  of  which  we  have  i;o 
account,)  it  was  the  custom  to  assemble  in  them  upon  the  sab- 
bath-day, for  the  'purpose  of  hearing  the  law  rehearsed  and 
explained,  and  for  the  exercise,  it  is  probable,  of  public  devo- 
tion :  For,  "  Moses  of  old  time  hath  in  every  city  them  that 
"  preach  him,  being  read  in  the  sy7iagogucs  every  sabbcUh-day.''' 
The  seventh  day  is  Saturday ;  and,  agreeably  to  the  Jewish 
way  of  computing  the  day,  the  sabbath  held  from  six  o'clock 
on  Friday  evening,  to  six  o'clock  on  Saturday  afternoon. — These 
observations  being  premised,  we  approach  the  main  question, 
Whether  the  command  by  which  the  Jewish  sabbath  was  insti- 
tuted, extend,  to  us  ? 

If  the  divine  command  was  actually  delivered  at  the  creation, 
it  ^vas  addressed,  no  doubt,  to  the  whole  hutnan  species  alike, 
and  continues,  unless  repealed  by  some  subsecpient  revelation, 
binding  upon  all  who  come  to  the  knowledge  of  it.  If  the  com- 
mand was  published  lor  the  first  time  in  the  wilderness,  then  it 
was  directed  to  the  Jewish  people  alone  ;  and  something  farther, 


SABBATICAL  INSTITUTIONS.  275 

<^,ither  in  the  subject  or  circumstances  of  the  command,  will  be 
necessary  to  show  that  it  was  designed  for  any  other.  It  is  on 
this  account,  that  the  question  concerning  the  date  of  the  insti- 
tution was  first  to  be  considered.  The  former  opinion  pre- 
cludes all  debate  about  the  extent  of  the  obligatioii  ;  the  latter 
admits,  and,  prima  facie,  induces  a  belief,  that  the  sabbath 
ought  to  be  considered  as  part  of  the  peculiar  law  of  the  Jewish 
policy. 

Which  belief  receives  great  confirmation  from  the  foilowirg 
arguments  : — 

The  sabbath  is  described  as  a  sign  between  God  aad  the  pao- 
"  pie  of  Israel  : — "  Wherefore  the  children  of  Israel  shall  keep 
"  the  sabbath,  to  observe  the  sabbath  throughout  their  genera- 
"  tions  for  a  perpetual  covenant ;  it  is  a  sign  Uelzceen  me  and  ike 
"  children  of  Israel  forever.^''  Exodus,  xxxi.  16,  17.  Agaitj ; 
"  And  I  gave  them  ray  statutes,  and  showed  them  my  judg- 
"  ments,  which  if  a  man  do  he  shall  even  live  in  them  ;  moreover 
'■'■also  I  gave  them  my  sabbaths,  to  be  a  sign  between  mc  and 
'•'  them,  that  they  might  know  that  I  am  the  Lord  that  sanctify 
"  them.  Ezek.  xx.  12.  Now  it  does  not  seem  easy  to  under- 
■stand  how  the  sabbath  could  be  a  sign  between  God  and  the 
people  of  Israel,  unless  the  observance  of  it  was  peculiar  to  that, 
people,  and  designed  to  be  so. 

The  distinction  of  the  sabbath  is,  in  its  nature,  as  much  a 
positive  ceremonial  institution,  as  that  of  aiany  other  seasons 
which  were  appointed  by  the  Levitical  law  to  be  kept  holy, 
and  to  be  observed  by  a  strict  rest  ;  as  the  first  and  seventh 
days  of  unleavened  bread  ;  the  feast  of  Pentecost  ;  the  feast  of 
Tabernacles  ;  and  in  the  tvve;ity-third  chapter  of  Exodus,  the 
pabbath  and  these  are  recited  together. 

If  the  command  by  which  the  sa!)bath  was  instituted,  be  bind- 
ing upon  Christians,  it  must  bind  as  to  the  day,  the  duties,  and 
the  penalty  ;   in  none  of  which  it  is  received. 

The  observation  of  the  sabbath  was  not  one  of  the  articles 
'^njoined  by  (ho  apostles,  in  the  fifteenth  chapter  of  Acts,  up«ll 


276  SABnxVTlCAL  INSTITUTION.^. 

them,  "  'Ahicli  from  among  the  Gentiles  were  turned  unto  God." 
St.  Paul  evidently  appears  to  have  considered  the  sabbath  as 
part  of  the  Jewish  ritual,  not  binding  upon  Christians  as  such  : — 
*'  Let  no  man  therefore  judge  you  in  meat  or  in  drink,  or  in  re- 
"  spect  of  an  holy  day,  or  of  the  new  moon,  or  of  the  sabbaih- 
"  days,  which  are  a  shadow  of  things  to  come,  but  the  body  is 
"of Christ."     Col.  ii.  IG,  17. 

I  am  aware  of  only  two  objections  which  can  be  opposed 
to  the  force  of  these  arguments  :  one  i?,  that  the  reason  assign- 
ed in  the  fourth  commandment  for  hallowing  the  seventh  day, 
namely,  "  because  God  rested  on  the  seventh  day  from  the 
"  work  of  the  creation,"  is  a  reason  which  pertains  to  all  man- 
kind ;  the  other,  that  the  command  which  enjoins  the  observa- 
tion of  the  sabbath  is  inserted  in  the  Decalogue,  of  which  all 
the  other  precepts  and  i»rohibitions  are  of  moral  and  universal 
obligation. 

Upon  the  first  objection  it  may  be  remarked,  that  although  in 
Exodus  the  commandment  is  founded  upon  God's  rest  Irom  the 
creation,  in  Deuteronomy  the  commandment  is  repeated  with  a 
ref<jrence  to  a  different  event :  "  Six  days  shalt  thou  labour,  and 
"  do  all  thy  work  :  but  the  seventh  day  is  the  sabbath  of  the 
"  Lord  thy  God  ;  in  it  thou  shalt  not  do  any  work  ;  thou,  nor 
"  thy  son,  nor  thy  daughter,  nor  thy  man-servant,  nor  thy 
*' maid-servant,  nor  thine  ox,  nor  thine  ass,  nor  any  of  thy  cat- 
"  tie,  nor  thy  stranger  that  is  within  thy  gates  ;  that  thy  man- 
*'  servant  and  thy  maid-servant  may  rest  as  well  as  thou  :  and 
"  remember  that  thou  wast  a  servant  in  the  land  of  Egypt,  and 
"  that  the  Lord  thy  God  brought  thee  out  thence,  through  a 
''  mighty  hand,  and  by  a  stretched  out  arm  ;  therfore  the  Lord 
"  thy  God  commanded  thee  to  keep  the  sabbath-day."  It  is  far- 
ther observable,  that  God's  rest  from  the  creation  is  pro])Oscd 
as  the  reason  of  the  institution,  even  where  the  instituiion  itself 
is  spoken  of  as  peculiar  to  the  Jews  :  "  Wherefore  the  children 
"■  of  Israel  shall  keep  the  sabbath,  to  observe  the  sabbath 
"  throughout  their  generations,  for  a  perpetual  covenant:  it  is 
"  a  sign  between  me  and  the  children    o|"  Ureal  forever  ;  (or  in 


SABBATICAL  INSTITUTIONS.  277 

"six  days  tlie  Lord  made  heaven  and  earth,  and  on  the  seventk 
"  day  he  rested  and  was  refreshed."  The  truth  is,  these  dif- 
ferent reasons  were  assigned,  to  account  for  different  circumstan- 
ces in  the  command.  If  a  Jew  inquired,  why  the  seventh  day 
was  sanctified  rather  than  the  sixth  or  eighth  ?  his  law  told  him, 
because  God  I'ested  on  the  seventh  day  from  the  creation.  If  he 
asked,  why  was  the  same  rest  indulged  to  slaves  ?  his  law  bade 
him  remember  that  he  also  was  a  slave  in  the  land  of  Egypt, 
and  ''  that  the  Lord  his  God  brought  him  out  thence."  In  this 
view,  the  two  reasons  are  perfectly  compatible  with  each  other, 
and  with  a  third  end  of  the  institution,  its  being  a  sign  between 
God  and  the  people  of  Israel  ;  but  in  this  view  they  determine 
nothing  conceruiog  the  extent  of  the  obligation.  If  the  reason 
by  its  proper  energy  had  constituted  a  natural  obligation,  or  if 
it  had,been  mentioned  wilh  a  view  to  the  extent  of  the  obligation, 
we  should  submit  to  the  conclusion,  that  all  were  comprehend^ 
ed  by  the  command  who  are  concerned  in  the  reason.  But  the 
sabbatic  rest  being  a  duty  which  results  from  the  ordination  and 
authority  of  a  positive  law,  the  reason  can  be  alleged  no  farther 
than  as  it  explains  the  design  of  the  legislator;  and  if  it  appear 
to  be  recited  with  an  intentional  application  to  one  part  of  the 
law,  it  can  explain  his  design  upon  no  other. 

With  respect  to  the  second  objection,  that  inasmuch  as  the 
other  nine  commandments  arc  confessedly  of  moral  and  universal 
obligation,  it  may  reasonably  be  presumed  that  this  is  of  the 
same  ;  we  answer,  that  this  argument  will  have  little  weight, 
when  it  is  considered  that  the  distinction  between  positive  and 
natural  duties,  like  other  distinctions  of  modern  ethics,  v/as  un- 
known to  the  simplicity  of  ancient  language  ;  and  that  there  are 
various  passages  in  Scripture,  in  which  duties  of  a  political,  or 
ceremonial,  or  positive  nature,  and  confessedly  of  partial  obliga- 
tion, are  enumerated,  and  without  any  mark  of  discrimination, 
along  with  others  which  are  natural  and  universal.  Of  this  the 
ibllovving  is  an  incontestable  example  :  "  But  if  a  man  be  just, 
'*  and  do  that  which  is  lawful  and  right ;  and  hath  not  eaten  upon 


278  SABBATICAL  L\STITUTIOx\&. 

"  llic  inounlnin.'?,  nor  halli  lift  up  his  eyes  lo  the  idols  of  the 
"  hoiisc  of  Israel;  neither  hath  defiled  his  neighbor's  wife, 
*'  nciilur  hath  come  near  to  a  menstruous  rn'oman  ;  and  hath  iiot 
"  oppressed  any,  but  hath  restored  to  the  debtor  liis  pledge  ;  hath 
"  spoiled  none  by  violence  ;  hath  given  Lis  bread  to  the  hungry, 
"  and  hath  covered  the  naked  \vilh  a  garment  ;  he  that  hath  not 
'^  given  upon  vsiiry,  neither  Jutth  taken  any  increase ;  that  hath 
"withdrawn  his  hand  from  iniquity  ;  hath  executed  true  judg- 
"  ment  between  man  and  man  ;  hath  walked  in  my  statutes,  and 
"  hath  kept  my  judgments,  to  deal  truly  ;  he  is  just,  he  shall 
"surely  live,  saith  the  Lord  God."  Ezekiel,  xviii.  5, — 9. 
The  same  thing  may  be  observed  of  the  apostolic  decree  re- 
corded in  the  liUeenth  chapter  of  the  Acts  : — "  It  seemed  good 
"  to  the  Holj'  Ghost,  and  to  us,  to  lay  upon  you  no  greater 
"burthen  than  these  necessary  things,  that  ye  abstain  from 
"  meats  offered  to  idols,  and  from  blood,  and  from  things  stran- 
"  gled,  and  from  fornication  :  from  which  if  ye  keep  your- 
"  selves,  ye  shall  do  well." 

11.  If  the  law  by  which  the  sabbath  was  instituted  was  a  law 
only  to  the  Jews,  it  becomes  an  important  question  with  the 
Christian  inquirer.  Whether  the  founder  of  his  religion  deliver- 
ed any  new  commmand  upon  the  subject  ?  or,  if  that  should  not 
appear  to  be, the  case,  whether  any  day  was  appropriated  to  the 
service  of  i-eligion  by  the  authority  or  example  of  his  apostles  ? 

The  practice  of  holding  religious  assemblies  upon  the  first  day 
of  the  week,  was  so  early  and  universal  in  the  Christian  Church, 
that  it  carries  with  it  considerable  proof  of  having  originated  from 
some  precept  of  Christ,  or  of  his  apostles,  though  none  such  be 
now  extant,  it  was  upon  the  first  da}'  of  the  week  that  the  dis- 
ciples were  assembled,  when  Christ  appeared  to  them  for  the 
first  time  after  his  resurrection  ;  "  then  the  same  day  at  eve- 
"'  ning,  being  the  first  day  of  the  week,  when  the  doors  were  shut 
'■  where  the  disciples  were  assembled,  for  fear  of  the  Jews,  came 
-'  Jesus,  and  stood  in  the  midst  of  them."  John,  xx.  1 0.  This, 
for  any  thing  tbat  appears  in  the  account,  might,  as  to  the  day, 


SABBATICAL  INSTITUTIONS.  279 

have  been  accidental  ;  but  in  the  26th  verse  of  the  same  chapter 
we  read.  "  that  after  eight  days,"  that  is,  on  the  Jirst  day  of  the 
week  following,  "  again  the  disciples  were  within  ;"  which  se- 
cond meeting  upon  the  same  day  of  the  week  looks  like  an  ap- 
pointment and  design  to  meet  on  that  particular  day.  In  tht* 
twentieth  chapter  of  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  we  find  the  same 
custom  in  a  Christian  Church  at  a  great  distance  from  Jerusa- 
lem : — "  And  we  came  unto  them  to  Troas  in  five  days,  where 
"  we  abode  seven  days  ;  and  i(pon  the  first  day  of  thexaeek,  when 
"  the  disciples  came  together  to  break  bread,  Paul  preached  unto 
"  them."  Acts,  xx.  G,  7.  The  manner  in  which  the  historian 
mentions  the  disciples  coming  together  to  break  bread  on  the  first 
day  of  the  week,  shows,  I  think,  that  the  practice  by  this  time 
was  familiar  and  established.  St.  Paul  to  the  Corinthians  writes 
thus  :  "•  Concerning  the  collection  for  the  saints,  as  I  have  given 
"  order  to  the  Churches  of  Galatia,  even  so  do  ye  ;  upon  the 
"first  day  of  the  zveek  let  every  one  of  you  lay  by  him  in  store 
"  as  God  hath  prospered  him,  that  there  be  no  gatherings  wheH 
"  I  come."  1  Cor.  xvl.  1,  2.  Which  direction  afiords  a  probable 
proof,  that  the  first  day  of  the  week  was  already,  amongst  the 
Cliristians  both  of  Corinth  and  Galatii,  distinguished  from  the 
rest  by  some  religious  application  or  other.  At  the  time  that  St, 
John  wrote  the  book  of  his  Revelation,  the  first  day  of  the  week 
had  obtained  the  name  of  the  LorWs  Day  ; — "  I  was  in  the  spir- 
"  it"  (says  he)  "  on  the  Lord's  Day.'",  Rev  i.  10.  Whicli 
name,  and  St.  John's  use  of  it,  suiliciently  denote  (he  appropria- 
tion of  this  day  to  the  service  of  religion,  and  that  this  appropri- 
ation was  perfectly  known  to  the  (^iiurches  of  Asia.  !  make  no 
doubt  but  that  by  the  Lord's  Day  was  meant  ihe  first  day  of  the 
week  ;  for,  we  find  no  footsteps  of  any  dislinrlion  of  days,  which 
could  entitle  any  otlicr  to  that  appe'iation.  The  suhscijuenl  his- 
tory of  Christianity  corresponds  with  the  accounts  delivered  on 
this  subject  in  Scripture. 

it  will   be  remembered,   tlmt   we  are   contetiding,   by  these 
proofs,  for  no  other  duty  upon  the  first  day  of  the   week,  than 


280  SABBATICAf.  IN.tJirj'UTION^. 

that  of  holding  and  frequenting  religious  assemblies.  A  cessa- 
tion upon  that  day  from  laboar,  beyond  the  time  of  attendance 
upon  public  worship,  is  not  intimated  in  any  passage  of  the  Nevr 
Testament ;  nor  did  Christ  or  his  apostles  deliver,  that  we  know 
of,  any  command  to  their  disciples  for  a  discontinuance,  upon 
that  day,  of  the  common  olfices  of  their  professions  :  a  reserve 
which  none  will  see  reason  to  wonder  at,  or  to  blame  as  a  defect 
in  the  institution,  who  consider  that,  in  the  primitive  condition  of 
Christianity,  the  observation  of  a  new  sabbath  would  have  been 
useless,  or  Inconvenient,  or  impracticable.  During  Christ's  per- 
sonal ministry,  his  religion  was  preached  to  the  Jews  alone. 
They  already  had  a  sabbath,  which,  as  citizens  and  subjects  of 
that  economy,  they  were  obliged  to  keep,  anddid  keep.  It  was 
not  therefore  probable  that  Christ  would  enjoin  another  day  of 
rest  in  conjunction  with  this.  When  the  new  religion  came  forth 
into  the  Gentile  world,  converts  to  it  were  for  the  most  part, 
made  from  those  classes  of  society  who  have  not  their  time  and 
labour  at  their  own  disposal  ;  and  it  was  scarcely  to  be  expect- 
ed, that  unbelieving  masters  and  magistrates,  and  they  who  di- 
rected the  employment  of  others,  would  permit  their  slaves  and 
labourers  to  rest  from  their  work  every  seventh  day  ;  or  that  civ- 
il government,  indeed,  would  have  suljmitted  to  the  loss  of  a 
seventh  j)art  of  the  public  industry,  and  that  too  in  addition  to 
the  numerous  festivals  which  the  national  religions  indulged  to 
the  people  ;  at  least,  this  would  have  been  an  encumbrance,  which 
might  have  greatly  retarded  the  reception  of  Christianity  in  the 
world.  In  reality,  the  institution  of  a  weekly  sabbath  is  so  con- 
nected with  the  functions  of  civil  life,  and  requires  so  much  of 
the  concurrence  of  civil  law,  in  its  regulation  and  support,  that  it 
cannot,  perhaps,  properly  be  made  the  ordinance  of  any  religion, 
till  that  religion  be  received  as  the  religion  of  the  state. 

The  opinion  ihat  Christ  and  his  Apostles  meant  to  retain  the 
duties  of  the  Jewish  sabbath,  shifting  only  the  day  from  the  sev- 
enth to  the  first,  seems  to  prevail  without  sufiicient  proof ;  nor 
does  any  evidence  remain  in  Scripture,  (of  what,  however,  is  not 


CHRISTIAN  SABBATH.  281 

improbable,)  that  the  first  day  of  the  week  was  thus  distinguish- 
ed in  commemoration  of  our  Lord's  resurrection. 

The  conclusion  from  the  whole  inquiry,  (for,  it  is  our  business 
to  follow  the  arguments,  to  whatever  probability  they  conduct 
us,)  is  this  :  The  assembling  upon  the  first  day  of  the  week  for 
the  purpose  of  public  worship  and  religious  instruction,  is  a  law 
of  Christianity,  of  divine  appointment  ;  the  resting  on  that  day 
from  our  employments  longer  than  we  are  detained  from  them 
by  attendance  upon  these  assemblies,  is  to  Christians  an  ordi- 
nance of  human  institution  ;  binding  nevertheless  upon  the  con- 
science of  every  individual  of  a  country  in  which  a  weekly  sab- 
bath is  established,  for  the  sake  of  the  beneficial  purposes  which 
the  public  and  regular  observation  of  it  promotes,  and  recom- 
mended perhaps  in  some  degree  to  the  divine  approbation,  by 
the  resemblance  it  bears  to  what  God  was  pleased  to  make  a  sol- 
emn part  of  the  law  which  he  delivered  to  the  people  of  Israel, 
and  by  its  subserviency  to  many  of  the  same  uses. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

BY  WHAT  ACTS  AND  OMISSIONS  THE  DUTY  OF  THE 
CHRISTIAN  SABBATH  IS  VIOLATED. 

SINCE  the  obligation  upon  Christians  to  comply  with  the  re- 
ligious observation  of  Sunday,  arises  from  the  public  uses  of  the 
institution,  and  the  authority  of  the  apostolic  practice,  the  mau' 
ner  of  observing  it  ought  to  be  that  which  best  fulfils  these  use«, 
and  conforms  the  nearest  to  this  practice. 

The  uses  proposed  by  the  institution  are  : — 

1.  To  facilitate  attendance  upon  public  worship. 

2.  To  meliorate  the  condition  of  the  laborious  classes  of  man- 
kind, by  regular  and  seasonable  returns  of  rest. 

3.  By  a  general  suspension  of  business  and  amusement,  to  in- 

3G 


28:^  CHRISTIAN  SABBATH. 

vite  and  enable  persons  of  every  description  to  npply  their  time 
and  thoughts  to  subjects  appertaining  to  their  salvation. 

With  the  primitive  Christians,  the  peculiar,  and  probably  for 
some  time  the  only,  distinction  ot  the  first  day  of  the  week,  was 
the  holding  of  religious  assemblies  upon  that  day.  We  learn, 
however,  from  the  testimony  of  a  very  early  writer  amongst 
them,  that  they  also  reserved  the  day  for  religious  meditations  : 
— Unmtquisque,  ■nostrum  (saith  Irencpus)  sahbatizat  spiritualiter, 
meditatione  legis  gaudcns,  opijicinm  Dei  adinirans. 

Wherefore  the  duty  of  the  day  is  violated, 

Ist,  By  all  such  employments  or  engagements  as  (though  dif- 
fering from  ouip  ordinary  occupation)  hinder  our  attendance  upon 
public  worship,  or  take  up  so  much  of  our  time  as  not  to  leave  a 
sufficient  part  of  the  day  at  leisure  for  religious  reflection  ;  as  the 
going  of  journies,  the  paying  or  receiving  of  visits  which  engage 
the  whole  day  ;  or  employing  the  time  at  home  in  writing  let- 
ters, settling  accounts,  or  in  applying  ourselves  to  studies,  or  the 
reading  of  books,  which  bear  no  relation  to  the  business  of  reli- 
gion. 

2dly,  By  unnecessary  encroachments  upon  the  rest  and  liberty 
which  Sunday  ought  to  bring  to  the  inferior  orders  of  the  com- 
niaiiity  ;  as  by  keeping  servants  on  that  day  confined  and  busied 
in  preparations  for  the  superfluous  elegancies  of  our  table,  or 
dress. 

8dly,  By  such  recreations  as  are  customarily  forborne  out  of 
respect  to  the  day  ;  as  bunting,  shooting,  fishing,  public  diver- 
sions, frequenting  taverns,  playing  at  cards,  or  dice. 

If  it  be  asked,  as  it  often  has  been,  wherein  consists  the  dif- 
ference between  walking  out  with  your  stick,  or  with  your  gun  ? 
between  spending  the  evening  at  home,  or  in  a  tavern  ?  between 
passing  the  Sunday  afternoon  at  a  game  of  cards,  or  in  conver- 
sation not  more  edifying,  nor  always  so  inoffensive  ? — To  these, 
and  to  the  same  question  under  a  variety  of  forms,  and  in  a  inul- 
lifude  of  similar  examj)les,  we  return  the  following  answer  : — 
That  the  religious  observation  of  Sunday,  if  it  ought  to  be  re- 


CHRISTIAN  SABBATH.  283 

iaincd  at  all,  must  be  upiield  by  some  public  and  visible  distinc- 
tions :  That,  draw  the  line  of  distinction  where  you  will,  many 
actions  which  are  situated  on  the  confines  of  the  line,  will  differ 
very  little,  and  yet  lie  on  opposite  sides  of  it  :  That  every 
trespass  upon  that  reserve  which  public  decency  has  established, 
breaks  down  the  fence  by  which  the  day  is  separated  to  the  ser- 
vice of  religion  :  That  it  is  unsafe  to  trifle  with  scruples  and  hab- 
its that  have  a  beneficial  tendency,  although  founded  merely  in 
custom  :  That  these  liberties,  however  intended,  will  certainly 
be  considered  by  those  who  observe  them,  not  only  as  disre- 
spectful to  the  day  and  institution,  but  as  proceeding  from  a  se- 
cret contempt  of  the  Christian  faith  :  That,  consequently,  they 
diminish  a  reverence  for  religion  in  others,  so  far  as  the  authori- 
ty of  our  opinion,  or  the  eflicacy  of  our  example  reaches  ;  41 
rather,  so  far  as  either  will  serve  for  an  excuse  of  negligence  to 
those  who  are  glad  of  any  :  That  as  to  cards  and  dice,  which 
put  in  their  claim  to  be  considered  amongst  the  harmless  occu- 
pations of  a  vacant  hour,  it  may  be  observed,  that  few  find  any 
difficulty  in  refraining  from  play  on  Sunday,  except  they  who 
sit  down  to  it  with  the  views  and  eagerness  of  gamesters  :  That 
gami7ig  is  seldom  innocent :  That  the  anxiety  and  perturbations, 
however,  which  it  excites,  are  inconsistent  with  the  tranquility 
and  frame  of  temper  in  which  the  duties  and  thoughts  of  religion 
should  always  both  find  and  leave  us  :  And,  lastly,  we  shall  re- 
mark, that  the  example  of  other  countries,  where  the  same  or 
greater  licence  is  allowed,  affords  no  apology  for  irregularities  in 
our  own  ;  because  a  practice  wbich  is  tolerated  by  public  order 
and  usage,  neither  receives  the  same  construction,  nor  gives  the 
.?acne  offence,  as  where  it  is  censured  and  prohibited  by  both. 


284  REVERENXING  THE  DEITY. 

CHAPTER  IX. 

OF  REVERENCING  THE  DEITY. 

IN  many  persons,  a  seriousness,  and  sense  of  awe,  overspread 
tlie  imagination,  whenever  the  idea  of  the  Supreme  Being  is  pre- 
sented to  their  thoughts.  This  effect,  which  forms  a  considera- 
ble security  against  vice,  is  the  consequence,  not  so  much  of  re- 
flection, as  of  habit  ;  which  habit  being  generated  by  the  exter- 
nal expressions  of  reverence  which  we  use  ourselves,  and  observe 
in  those  about  us,  may  be  destroyed  by  causes  opposite  to  these, 
and  especially  by  that  familiar  levity  with  which  some  learn  to 
speak  of  the  Deity,  of  his  attributes,  providence,  revelations,  or 
worship. 

God  hath  been  pleased  (no  matter  for  what  reason,  allhougU 
probably  for  this,)  to  forbid  the  vain  mention  of  his  name  : 
"  Thou  shalt  not  take  the  name  of  the  Lord  thy  God  in  vain." 
Now  the  mention  is  vain,  when  it  is  useless  ;  and  it  is  useless, 
when  it  is  neither  likely  nor  intended  to  Fcrve  any  good  purpose  ; 
as,  when  it  flows  from  the  lips  idle  or  unmeaning,  or  is  applied 
upon  occasions  inconsistent  with  any  consideration  of  religion  or 
devotion,  to  express  our  anger,  our  earnestness,  our  courage,  or 
our  mirth  ;  or,  indeed,  when  it  is  used  at  all,  except  in  acts  of 
religion,  or  in  serious  and  seasonable  discourse  upon  religious 
subjects. 

The  prohibition  of  the  third  commandment  is  recognized  by 
Christ,  in  bis  sermon  upon  the  Mount ;  which  sermon  adverts  to 
none  but  the  moral  parts  of  the  Jewish  law  :  "  I  say  unto  you, 
"  Swear  not  at  all ;  but  let  your  communication  be  yea,  yea  ; 
■'  nay,  nay  :  for,  whatsoever  is  more  than  tbese,cometh  of  evil." 
The  Jews  probably  interpreted  the  prohibition  as  restrained  tp 
the  name  Jehovah,  the  name  which  the  Deity  had  appointed 
and  appropriated  to  himself,  Exod.  vi.  3.     The  words  of  Christ 


REVERENCING  THE  DEITY.  285 

extend  the  prohibition  beyond  the  name  of  God,  to  every  thing 
associated  with  the  idea  :  "  Swear  not,  neither  by  heaven,  fori,t 
"  is  God's  throne  ;  nor  by  the  earth,  for  it  is  his  footstool  ;  nei- 
"ther  by  Jerusalem,  for  it  is  the  city  of  the  great  King."  Matt- 
V.  35. 

The  offence  of  profane  swearing  is  aggravated  by  the  consid- 
eration, that  duty  and  decency  are  sacrificed  thereby  to  the 
slenderest  of  temptations.  Suppose  the  habit,  either  from  affec- 
tation, or  by  negligence  and  inadvertency,  to  be  already  form- 
ed, it  costs,  one  would  think,  little  to  relinquish  the  pleasure  and 
honour  which  it  confers  ;  and  it  must  always  be  within  the  pow- 
er of  the  most  ordinary  res.olution  to  correct  it.  Zeal,  and  a 
concern  for  duty,  are,  in  fact,  never  strong,  when  the  exertion 
requisite  to  vanquish  a  habit,  founded  in  no  antecedent  propensi- 
ty, is  thought  too  much,  or  too  painful. 

A  contempt  of  positive  duties,  or  rather  of  those  duties  for 
which  the  reason  is  not  so  plain  as  the  command,  indicates  a  dis- 
position upon  which  the  authority  of  revelation  has  obtained  lit- 
tle influence.  This  remark  is  applicable  to  the  offence  of  pro- 
fane swearing,  and  describes,  perhaps,  pretty  exactly,  the  gen- 
eral character  of  those  who  are  most  addicted  to  it. 

Mockery  and  ridicule,  when  exercised  upon  the  Scriptures,  ov 
even  upon  the  places,  persons,  and  forms  set  apart  for  the  minis- 
tration of  religion,  fall  within  the  mischief  of  the  law  which  for- 
bids the  proianation  of  God's  name  ;  especially  as  it  is  extend- 
ed by  Christ's  interpretation.  They  are  moreover  inconsistent 
with  a  religious  frame  of  mind  ;  for,  as  no  one  ever  feels  himself 
either  disposed  to  pleasantry,  or  capable  of  being  diverted  with 
the  pleasantry  of  others,  upon  matters  in  which  he  is  cordially 
interested  ;  so  a  mind  intent  upon  the  attainment  of  heaven,  re- 
jects with  indignation  every  attempt  to  entertain  it  with  jests, 
calculated  to  degrade  or  deride  subjects,  which  it  never  recol- 
lects, but  with  seriousness  and  anxiety.  Nothing  but  stupidity, 
or  the  most  frivolous  dissipation  of  thought,  can  make  even  the 
inconsiderate   forget  the   supreme   importance   of  every  thing 


286  REVERENCLNG  THE  DEITF. 

which  relates  to  the  expectation  of  a  future  existence.  Whilst 
the  infidel  mocks  at  the  superstitions  of  the  vulgar,  insults  over 
their  credulous  fears,  their  childish  errors,  and  fantastic  rites,  it 
does  not  occur  to  him  to  observe,  that  the  most  preposterous  de» 
vice  by  which  the  weakest  devotee  ever  believed  he  was  secur- 
ing the  happiness  of  a  future  life,  is  more  rational  than  uncon- 
cern about  it.  Upon  this  subject,  nothing  is  so  absurd  as  indif- 
ference ; — no  folly  so  contemptible,  as  thoughtlessness  and  levitj*. 
Finally,  the  knowledge  of  what  is  due  to  the  solemnity  of 
those  interests,  concerning  which  revelation  professes  to  inform 
and  direct  us,  may  teach  even  those  who  are  least  inclined  (o 
respect  the  prejudices  of  mankind,  to  observe  a  decorum  in  the 
style  and  conduct  of  religious  disquisitions,  with  the  neglect  of 
which  many  adversaries  of  Christianity  are  justly  chargeable. 
Serious  arguments  are  fair  on  all  sides.  Christianity  is  but  ill 
defended  by  refusing  audience  or  toleration  to  the  objections  of 
unbelievers.  But  whilst  we  would  have  freedom  of  inquiry  re- 
trained by  no  laws,  but  those  of  decency,  we  are  entitled  to 
demand,  on  behalf  of  a  religion  which  holds  forth  to  mankind 
assurances  of  immortality,  that  its  credit  be  assailed  by  no  other 
weapons  than  those  of  sober  discussion  and  legitimate  reason- 
ing : — that  the  iruth  ox  falsehood  of  Christianity  be  never  made 
a  topic  of  raillery,  a  therae  for  the  exercise  of  wit  or  eloquence, 
or  a  subject  of  contention  for  literary  fame  and  victory  : — that 
the  cause  be  tried  upon  its  merits  : — that  all  applications  to  the 
fancy,  passions,  or  prejudices  of  the  reader,  all  attempts  to  pre- 
,occupy,  ensnare,  or  perplex  his  judgment,  by  any  art,  influence, 
or  impression  whatsoever,  extrinsic  to  the  proper  grounds  and 
evidence  upon  which  his  assent  ought  to  proceed,  be  rej^ted 
from  a  question,  which  involves  in  its  determination  the  hopes, 
the  virtue,  and  repose  of  millions  : — that  the  controversy  be 
managed  on  both  sides  with  sincerity  ;  that  is,  that  nothing  he 
produced,  in  the  writings  of  either,  contrary  to,  or  beyond,  the 
writer's  own  knowledge  and  persuasion  : — that  objections  and 
difficulties  be  proposed,  from  n*  olbcr  aiotive  than  »^  honesi 


REVERENCING  THE  DEITY.  28  / 

and  serious  desire  to  obtain  satisfaction,  or  to  communicate  in- 
formation which  may  promote  the  discovery  and  progress  of 
truth  : — that  in  conformity  with  this  design,  every  thing  be  sta- 
ted with  integrity,  with  method,  precision,  and  simplicity  ;  and, 
above  all,  that  whatever  is  published  in  opposition  to  received 
and  confessedly  beneficial  persuasions,  be  set  forth  under  a 
form  which  is  likely  to  invite  inquiry,  and  to  meet  examination. 
If  with  these  moderate  and  equitable  conditions  be  compared 
the  inanner  in  which  hostilities  have  been  waged  against  thc> 
Christian  religion,  not  only  the  votaries  of  the  prevailing  faith, 
but  every  man  who  looks  forward  with  anxiety  to  the  destina- 
tion of  his  being,  will  see  much  to  blame  and  to  complain  of. 
By  07ie  unbeliever,  all  the  follies  which  have  adhered,  in  a 
long  course  of  dark  and  superstitious  ages,  to  the  popular 
creed,  are  assumed  as  so  many  doctrines  of  Christ  and  bis 
Apostles,  for  the  purpose  of  subverting  the  whole  system  by  the 
absurdities  which  it  is  l!ms  represented  to  contain.  By  another, 
the  ignorance  and  vices  of  the  sacerdotal  order,  their  mutual 
dissensions  and  persecutions,  their  usurpations  and  encroach- 
ments upon  the  intellectual  liberty  and  civil  rights  of  mankind, 
have  been  displayed  with  no  small  triumph  and  invective  ;  not' 
so  much  to  guard  the  Christian  laity  against  a  repetition  of  the 
same  injuries  (which  is  the  only  proper  use  to  be  made  of  the 
most  flagrant  examples  of  the  past,)  as  to  prepare  the  way 
for  an  insinuation,  that  the  religion  itself  is  nothing  else  than  a 
J»rofitable  fable,  imposed  upon  the  fears  and  credulity  of  the 
multitude,  and  upheld  by  the  frauds  and  influence  of  an  inter- 
ested and  crafty  priesthood.  And  yet,  how  remotely  is  the  char- 
acter of  the  clergy  connected  with  the  truth  of  Christianity  T 
What,  after  all,  do  the  most  disgraceful  pages  of  ecclesiastical 
history  prove,  but  that  the  passions  of  our  common  nature  are 
not  altered  or  excluded  by  distinctions  of  name,  and  that  the 
characters  of  men  are  formed  much  more  by  the  temptations  than 
the  duties  of  their  profession  ? — A  third  finds  delight  in  collect- 
ing and  repeating  accounts  of  wars  and  massacres,  of  tumults  and 


288  REVERENCING  THE  DEITY. 

insurrections,  excited  in  almost  every  age  of  the  Christian  cefa 
by  religious  zeal  ;  as  though  the  vices  of  Christians  were  parts 
of  Cliristianity  ;  intolerance  and  extirpation  precepts  of  the  Gos- 
pel ;  or  as  if  its  spirit  could  be  judged  of  from  the  counsels  of 
princes,  the  intrigues  of  statesmen,  the  pretences  of  malice  and 
ambition,  or  the  unauthorized  cruelties  of  some  gloomy  and  vir- 
ulent superstition. — By  a  fourth^  the  succession  and  variety  of 
popular  religions  ;  the  vicissitudes  with  which  sects  and  tenets 
have  flourished  and  decayed  ;  the  zeal  with  which  they  were 
once  supported,  the  negligence  with  which  they  are  now  remem- 
bered :  the  little  share  which  reason  and  argument  appear  to 
have  had  in  framing  the  creed,  or  regulating  the  religious  con- 
duct of  the  multitude  ;  the  indiflference  and  submission  with  which 
the  religion  of  the  state  is  generally  received  by  the  common 
people  ;  the  caprice  and  vehemence  with  which  it  is  somptimes 
opposed  ;  the  phrenzy  with  which  men  have  been  brought  to 
contend  for  opinions  and  ceremonies,  of  which  they  knew  nei- 
ther the  proof,  the  meaning,  nor  original  ;  lastly,  the  equal  and 
undoubting  confidence  with  which  we  hear  the  doctrines  of  Christ 
or  of  Confucius,  the  law  of  Moses  or  of  Mahomet,  the  Bible,  the 
Koran,  or  the  Shaster,  maintained,  or  anathematized,  taught  or 
abjured,  revered  or  derided,  according  as  we  live  on  this  or  on 
that  side  of  a  river  ;  keep  within  or  step  over  the  boundaries  of 
a  state  ;  or  even  in  the  same  country,  and  by  the  same  people. 
so  often  as  the  event  of  a  battle,  or  the  issue  of  a  negociation, 
delivers  them  to  the  dominion  of  a  new  master  ; — points,  I  say, 
of  this  sort,  are  exhibited  to  the  public  attention,  as  so  many  ar- 
guments against  the  truth  of  the  Christian  religion  ; — and  with 
success.  For  these  topics  being  brought  together,  and  set  off 
with  some  aggravation  of  circumstances,  and  with  a  vivacity  of 
style  and  description  familiar  enough  to  the  writings  and  conver- 
sation of  free-thinkers,  insensibly  lead  the  imagination  into  a  hab- 
it of  classing  Christianity  with  the  delusions  tliat  have  taken  pos- 
session, by  turns,  of  the  public  belief;  and  of  regarding  it,  as 
what  the  scoffers  of  our  faith  represent  it  to  be,  the  superstition 


REVERENCING  THE  DEITY.  ^89 

>^fthe  day.  But  is  this  to  deal  honestly  by  the  subject,  or  with 
the  world  ?  May  not  the  same  things  be  said,  may  not  the  same 
prejudices  be  excited  by  these  representations,  whether  Chris- 
tianity be  true  or  false,  or  by  whatever  proofs  its  truth  he  attes- 
ted ?  May  not  truth  as  well  as  falsehood  be  taken  upon  credit  ? 
May  nut  religion.be  founded  upon  evidence  accessible  and  satis- 
factory to  every  mind  competent  to  the  inquiry,  which  yet,  by 
the  greatest  part  of  its  professors,  is  received  upon  authority  ? 

But  if  the  matter  of  these  objections  be  reprehensible,  as  cal- 
culated to  produce  an  effect  upon  the  reader  beyond  what  their 
real  weigiit  and  place  in  the  argument  deserve,  st'll  more  shall 
We  discover  of  management  and  disingcnuousness  in  the  ,i^c;r,'«  un- 
der-f\'hi.ch  they  are  dispersed  among  the  public.      Infidehty   is 
scrvcid  up  in  every  shape  Ihit  is  likely  to  allure,  surprise,  or  be- 
guile tlift  imagination  ;  in  a  fable,  a  tale,  a  novel,  a  poem  ;  in  in- 
terspersed and  broken  hints  ;  remote  and  oblique  surmises  ;   in 
books  of  travels,  of  philosophy,  of  natural   history  ;  in  a  w^ord, 
in  any  form  rather  than   the  right  one,   that  of  a  professed  and 
regular  disquisition.     And  because   the  coarse  buffoonry,  and 
broad  lai>gh,  of  the  old  and  rude  adversaries  of  the   Christian 
faith,  would  offend  the  taste,  perhaps,  rather  than  the  virtue,  of 
this  cultivated  age,  a  graver  irony,  a  more  skilful  and  delicate 
banter,  is  substituted  in  their  place.     An  eloqueTit  historian,  be- 
r-ides  his  more  direct,  and  therefore  fairer,  attacks  upon  the  cred- 
ibility of  the  Evangelic  story,  has  contrived  to  weave  into  his 
narration  one  continued  sneer  upon  the  cause  of  Christianity,  and 
upon  the  writings  and  ciiaracters  of  its  ancient  patrons.     The 
knowledge  which  ih'n  author  possesses  of  the  frame  and  conduct 
of  the  human  mind,  mii«t  have- led  him  to  observe,  that  such  at- 
tacks  do  thei?  execution  without   inquiry.     Who  dan  refute  a 
sneer  1     Who  can  comnuto  the  number,  much  less  one   by  one, 
scrutinize  the  justice  of  those  disparaging  insinuations^  which 
f-rowd  the  pages  of  this  elaborate  history  ?     What  reader  sus- 
pends his  curiosity,  or  call:;  off  his  attention  from   the  principal 
narrative,  to  examine  references,  to  .searcli  into  the  foundatinrj^ 
37 


290  REVERENCING  THE  DEITY. 

or  to  weigh  the  reason,  propriety,  and  force  of  every  transient 
sarcasm,  and  sly  allusion,  by  which  the  Christian  testimony  is 
depreciated  and  traduced  :  and  by  wiiich,  nevertheless,  he  may 
fintl  his  faith  afterwards  unsettled  and  perplexed  ? 

But  the  enemies  of  Christianity  have  pursued  her  with  poisoned 
arrows.  Obscenity  itself  is  made  the  vehicle  of  infidelity.  The 
awful  doctrines,  if  we  be  not  permitted  to  call  them  the  sacred 
truths  of  our  religion,  together  with  all  the  adjuncts  and  appen- 
dages of  its  worship  and  external  profession,  have  been  some- 
times impudently  profaned  by  an  unnatural  conjunction  with  im- 
pure and  lascivious  images.  The  fondness  for  ridicule  is  almost 
universal  ;  and  ridicule  to  many  minds  is  never  so  irresistible, 
as  when  seasoned  with  obscenity,  and  employed  upon  religion. 
But  in  proportion  as  these  noxious  principles  take  hold  of  the 
imagination,  they  infatuate  the  judgment  :  for,  trains  of  ludicrous 
and  unchaste  associations  adhering  to  every  sentiment  and  men- 
tion of  religion,  render  the  mind  indisposed  to  receive  either  con- 
viction from  its  evidence,  or  impressions  from  its  authority. 
And  this  effect  being  exerted  upon  the  sensitive  part  of  our  frame, 
is  altogether  independent  of  argument,  proof,  or  reason  ;  is  as 
formidable  to  a  true  religion,  as  to  a  false  one  ;  to  a  well  ground- 
ed faith,  as  to  a  chimerical  mythology,  or  fabulous  tradition. 
Neither,  let  it  be  observed,  is  the  crime  or  danger  less,  because 
impure  ideas  are  exhibited  under  a  veil,  in  covert  and  chastised 
language. 

Seriousness  is  not  constraint  of  thought ;  nor  levity,  freedom. 
Every  mind  which  wishes  the  advancement  of  truth  and  know- 
ledge in  the  most  important  of  all  human  researches,  must  abhor 
this  licentiousness,  as  violating  no  less  the  laws  of  reasoning, 
than  the  rights  of  decency.  There  is  but  one  description 
of  men  to  whose  principles  it  ought  to  be  tolerable  ;  I  mean 
that  class  of  reasoners  who  can  see  little  in  Christianity,  even 
supposing  it  to  be  true.  To  such  adversaries  we  address  this 
reflection  : — Had  Jesus  Christ  delivered  no  other  declaration 
than  the  following  :    "  The  hour  is  coming,  in  the  which  all  that 


REVERENCING  THE  DEITY.  f9l 

"  are  in  the  grave  shall  hear  his  voice,  and  shall  come  forth  ; 
"  they  that  have  done  good  unto  the  resurrection  of  life,  and  they 
"  that  have  done  evil  unto  the  resurrection  of  damnation ;"  he 
had  pronounced  a  message  of  inestimable  importance,  and  well 
worthy  of  that  splendid  apparatus  of  prophecy  and  miracles  with 
which  his  mission  was  introduced  and  attested  ;  a  message  in 
which  the  wisest  of  mankind  would  rejoice  to  iiiid  an  answer  to 
their  doubts,  and  rest  to  their  inquiries.  It  is  idle  to  say,  that 
a  future  state  had  been  discovered  already  ;  it  had  been  dis- 
covered as  the  Copernican  system  was, — it  was  one  guess  among 
many.  He  alone  discovers  who  proves  ;  and  no  man  can  prove 
this  point,  but  the  teacher  who  testifies  by  miracles  that  his  doc- 
trine comes  from  God. 


BOOK  Vi. 


rXEMENTS  OF  POLITICAL  KNOWLEDGE. 


CHAPTEIl  I, 

OF  THE  ORIGIN  OF  CIVIL  GOVERNMENT. 

GOVERNMENT,  at  first,  v.as  eilbcr  patriarchal  or  miliiary  ) 
^hat  of  a  parent  over  liis  family,  or  of  a  coinmander  over  his  fel- 
low-warriors. 

I.  Paternal  authority,  and  the  order  of  domestic  life,  siipjjiicd 
the  foundation  of  civil  govermnent.  Did  mankhid  spring  out  of 
the  earth  mature  and  independent,  it  would  be  found,  perhaps^ 
impossible  to  introduce  subjection  and  subordination  among  them; 
but  the  condition  of  human  infancy  prepares  men  for  society,  by 
conibining  individuals  into  small  communities,  and  by  placing  them 
from  the  beginning  under  direction  and  control.  A  family  con- 
tains the  rudiments  of  an  empire.  The  authority  of  one  over 
many,  and  the  disposition  to  govern  and  to  be  governed  are  in 
this  way  incidental  to  the  very  nature,  and  coeval,  no  doubt^ 
with  the  cxi.stcncc  of  the  human  sjiecics. 

Moreover,  the  constitution  of  families  not  only  assists  the  fonii- 
ntion  of  civil  government,  by  the  dispositions  which  it  generates, 
but  also  furnishes  the  iirst  steps  of  the  process  by  which  empires 
have  been  actually  reared.  A  paienl  would  retain  a  considera- 
ble part  of  his  authority  after  his  children  were  grown  up,  and 
had  formed  families  of  their  own.  The  obedience,  of  which 
•they  remembered  not  the  beginning,  would  be  considered  as  iiar 


CIVIL  govehnment.  293 

iural  ;  and  would  scarcely,  during  the  parent's  life,  be  entirely 
.or  abrujjlly  withdrawn.  Here,  then,  we  see  the  second  stage  in 
the  progress  o(  dominion  The  first  was,  that  of  a  parent  over 
his  young  childrea  ;  this,  that  of  an  ancestor  presiding  over  his 
adult  descendants. 

Although  the  original  progenitor  was  the  centre  of  unign  to  his 
posterity,  yet  it  is  not  probable  that  the  association  would  be 
immediately  or  altogether  dissolved  by  his  death.  Connected 
by  habits  of  intercourse  and  affection,  aod  by  some  common 
rights,  necessities  and  interests,  they  would  consider  themselves 
as  allied  to  Ccich  other  in  a  nearer  degree  than  to  the  rest  of  the 
species.  Abnost  a!!  would  be  sensible  of  an  inclination  to  con- 
tinue in  the  society  in  which  they  had  been  brought  up  ;  and 
experiencing,  as  they  soon  would  do,  many  inconveniences  from 
the  absence  of  that  authority  which  their  common  ancestor  exer- 
cised, especially  in  deciding  their  disputes,  and  directing  their 
operations  in  matters  in  which  it  was  necessary  to  act  in  con- 
juixtion,  they  might  be  induced  to  supply  his  place  by  a  formal 
choice  of  a  successor  :  or  rather,  might  willinglj'-,  and  almost 
imperceptibly,  transfer  their  obedience  to  some  one  of  the  fam- 
ily, who  by  his  age  or  services,  or  by  the  part  he  possessed  in 
the  direction  of  their  affairs  during  the  lifetime  of  the  parent, 
had  already  taught  them  to  respect  his  advice,  or  tq  attend  to 
his  commands  ;  or,  lastly,-  the  prospect  of  these  inconveniences 
might  prompt  the  first  ancestor  to  appoint  a  successor  ;  and  his 
posterity,  from  the  same  motive,  united  with  an  habitual  defer- 
ence to  his  authority,  might  receive  the  appointment  with  sub- 
mission. Here  then  we  have  a  tribe  or  clan  incorporated  under 
one  chief.  Such  communities  might  be  incryrfMCjLby  considera- 
ble numbers,  and  fulfil  the  purposes  of  civiHOTiron  without  any 
other  or  more  regular  convention,  constitution,  or  form  of  govern- 
ment than  what  we  have  described.  Every  branch  which  wa^ 
slipped  ofT  from  the  primitive  stock,  and  removed  to  a  distance 
from  it,  would  in  like  manner  take  root,  and  grow  into  a  separate 
flan.     Two  or  three  of  these  clans  v>'ere  frequently,  we  may 


294  ORIGIN  OF 

suppose,  united  into  one.  Marriage,  conquest,  inulual  dclcricp, 
common  distress,  or  more  accidental  coalitions,  might  produce 
this  effect. 

II.  A  second  source  of  personal  authority,  and  which  might 
easily  extend,  or  sometimes  perhaps  supersede  the  patriarchal,  is 
that  which  results  from  military  arrangement.  In  wars,  either 
of  aggression  or  defence,  manifest  necessity  would  prompt  those 
who  fought  on  the  same  side  to  array  themselves  under  one 
leader.  And  although  iheir  leader  was  advanced  to  this  emi- 
nence for  the  purpose  only,  and  during  the  operations  of  a  sin- 
gle expedition,  yet  his  authority  would  not  always  terminate 
with  the  reasons  for  which  it  was  conferred.  A  warrior  who 
had  led  forth  his  tribe  against  their  enemies  with  repeated  suc- 
cess, would  procure  to  himself,  even  in  the  deliberations  of 
peace,  a  powerful  and  permanent  influence.  If  this  advantage 
were  added  to  the  authority  of  the  patriarchal  chief,  or  fnvonr- 
cd  by  any  previous  distinction  of  ancestry,  it  would  bo  no  dif- 
ficult undertaking  for  the  person  who  possessed  it  to  obtain  the 
almost  absolute  direction  of  the  affairs  of  the  community  :  es- 
pecially if  he  was  careful  to  associate  to  himself  proper  auxilia- 
ries, and  content  to  practice  the  obvious  art  of  gratifying  or  re- 
moving those  who  opposed  his  pretensions. 

But  although  we  may  be  able  to  comprehend  how  by  his 
personal  abilities  or  fortune  one  man  may  obtain  the  rule  over 
many,  yd  it  seems  more  difficult  to  explain  how  empire  be- 
came hereditary,  or  in  what  manner  sovereign  power,  which  is 
never  acquired  without  great  merit  or  management,  learns  to 
descend  in  a  succession  which  has  no  dependence  upon  any 
qualities  either  of  understanding  or  activity.  The  causes  which 
have  introduced  hereditary  dominion  into  so  general  a  reception 
in  the  world  are  principally  the  following  : — the  influence  of  as- 
sociation, which  communicates  to  the  son  a  portion  of  the  same 
respect  which  was  wont  to  be  paid  to  the  virtues  or  station  of 
the  father;  the  mutual  jealousy  of  other  competitors;  the 
greater  envy  with  which  all  behold  the  exaltation  of  an  equal, 


CIVIL  GOVERNMENT.  295 

than  the  continuance  of  an  acknowledged  superiority  ;  a  reigning  - 
prince  leaves  behind  him  many  adherents,  who  can  preserve 
their  own  importance  only  by  siipporting  the  succession  of  his 
children  :  add  to  these  reasons,  that  elections  to  the  supreme 
power  having  upon  some  occasions,  produced  the  most  destruc- 
tive contentions,  many  states  would  take  refuge  from  a  return  of 
the  same  calamities  in  a  rule  of  succession  ;  and  no  rule  pre- 
sents itself  so  obvious,  certain,  and  intelligible,  as  consanguinity 
of  birth. 

The  ancient  state  of  society  in  most  countries,  and  the  mod- 
ern condition  of  some  uncivilized  parts  of  the   world,  exhibit 
that  appearance  which  this  account  of  the  original  of  civil  gov- 
ernment would   lead   us   to   expect.      The  earliest  histories  of 
Palestine,  Greece,  Italy,  Gaul,  Britain,  inform  us,  that  these 
countries  were  occupied  by  many  small   independent  nations, 
not  much,  perhaps,  unlike  those  which  are    found  at  present 
amongst  the  savage  inhabitants  of  North  America,  and  upon  the 
coast  of  Africa.     These  nations  I   consider  as  the  amplifications 
of  so  many  single  families  ;  or  as  derived  from  the  junction  of 
two  or  three  families,  whom  society  in  war,  or  the  approach  of 
common  danger,  had  united.     Suppose  a  country  to  have  been 
first  peopled  by  shipwreck  on  its  coasts,  or  by  emigrants  or  ex- 
iles from  some  neighboring  country  ;  the  new  settlers,  having  no 
enemy  to  provide  against,  and  occupied  with  the  care   of  their 
personal  subsistence,  would  think  little  of  digesting  a  system  of 
laws,  of  contriving  a  form  of  government,  or  indeed  of  any  po- 
litical union  whatever  ;  but  each   settler  would  remain  at  the 
head  of  his  own  family,  and  each  family  would  include  all  of  eve- 
ry age  and  generation  who  were  descended  from  him.     So  many 
of  these  families  as  were  holden  together  after  Ihe   death  of  the 
original  ancestor,  by  the  reasons  and  in  the  method  above  re- 
cited, would  wax  as  the  individuals  were  multiplied,  into  tribes, 
clans,  hordes  or  nations,  similar  to  those  into  which  the  ancient 
inhabitants  of  many  countries  are  known  to  have  been  divided, 
and  which  are  still  found   wherever  the   state  of  society  and 
manners  is  immature  and  uncultivated. 


296  SUBJECTION  TO 

Nor  need  we  be  surprised  at  the  early  existence  in  the  worltl 
of  some  vast  empires,  or  at  the  rapidit}'-  with  which  they  ad- 
vanced to  their  greatness,  from  comparativcl}-  small  and  obscure 
originals.  Whilst  the  inhabitants  of  so  many  countries  uere 
broken  into  numerous  communities,  unconnected,  and  oftentimes 
contending  with  each  other  ;  before 'experience  had  taught  these 
little  states  to  see  their  own  danger  in  their  neghbour's  ruin  ;  or 
had  instructed  them  in  the  necessity  of  resisting  the  ag'/randize- 
ment  of  an  aspiring  power,  by  alliances,  and  timely  prepara- 
tion ;  in  this  condition  of  civil  policy,  a  particular  tribe,  who  by 
any  means  had  got  the  start  of  the  rest  in  strength  or  discipline, 
and  happened  to  fall  under  the  conduct  of  an  ambitious  chief, 
by  directing  their  first  attempts  to  the  part  where  success  waft 
most  secure,  and  by  assuming,  as  they  went  along,  those  whom 
they  conquered  into  a  share  of  their  future  enterprises,  might 
soon  gather  a  force  which  would  infallibly  overbear  any  oppo- 
sition that  the  divided  power  and  unprovided  state  of  such  ene- 
mies could  make  to  the  progress  of  their  victories. 

Lastly,  Our  theory  affords  a  presumption,  tliat  the  earliest 
governments  were  monarchies,  because  the  government  of  fami- 
lies, and  of  armies,  from  which,  according  to  our  account,  civif 
government  derived  its  institution,  and  probably  its  form,  is  uni- 
versally monarchical. 


CHAPTER  II. 

ilOW  SUBJECTION  TO  CIVIL  GOVERNxMENT  IS  MAl!^- 
TAINED. 

COULD  we  view  our  own  species  from  a  distance  and  re- 
gard mankind  with  the  same  sort  of  observation  with  which  we 
read  the  natural  history,  or  remark  the  manners  of  any  other  an- 
imal, there  isnothinc;  in  the  human  character  which  would  more 


CIVIL  GOVERNMEI^T,  297 

sarpi'is.e  us  than  the  almost  universal  subjugation  of  strength  to 
weakness  ; — than  to  see  many  millions,  perhaps  of  robust  men,  iti 
the  complete  use  and  exercise  of  their  personal  faculties,  and  with- 
out any  defect  of  courage,  waiting  upon  the  will  of  a  child,  a 
woman,  a  driveller,  or  a  lunatic.  And  although,  when  we  sup- 
pose a  vast  empire  in  absolute  subjection  to  one  person,  and 
that  one  depressed  beneath  the  level  of  his  species  by  intirmities 
or  vice,  we  suppose  perhaps  an  extreme  case  :  yet  in  all  cases, 
even  in  the  most  popular  forms  of  civil  government,  the  physical 
strength  resides  in  the  governed.  In  what  manner  opinion  thus  j 
prevails  over  strength,  or  how  power,  which  naturally  belongs 
to  superior  force,  is  maintained  in  opposition  to  it  ;  in  other 
words,  by  what  motives  the  many  are  induced  to  submit  to  the 
few,  becomes  an  inquiry  which  lies  at  the  root  of  almost  every 
political  speculation.  It  removes,  indeed,  but  does  not  resolve  ' 
the  difficulty  to  say,  that  civil  governments  are  now-a-days  al- 
most universally  upheld  by  standing  armies  ;  for,  the  question 
still  returns,  How  are  these  armies  themselves  kept  in  subjection, 
or  made  to  obey  the  directions,  and  carry  on  the  designs,  of  the 
prince  or  state  which  employs  them  ? 

Now,  although  we  should  look  in  vaiu  for  any  single  reason 
which  will  account  for  the  general  submission  of  mankind  to  civil 
government  ;  yet  it  may  not  be  difficult  to  assign  for  every  class 
and  character  in  the  community,  considerations  powerful  enough 
to  dissuade  each  from  any  attempts  to  resist  established  author- 
ity. Every  man  has  his  motive,  though  not  the  same.  In  this, 
as  in  other  instances,  the  conduct  is  similar,  but  the  principles 
which  produce  it  extremely  various. 

There  are  three  princi{>al  distinctions  of  character  into  which 
the  subjects  of  a  state  may  be  divided  ;  into  those  who  obey 
from  prejudice  ;  those  who  obey  from  reason  ;  and  those  who 
obey  from  self-interest- 

1.  They  who  obey  from  prejudice,  are  determined  by  an  opin- 
ion of  right,  in  their  governors  ;  which  opinion  is  founded  upon 
prescription.      In  monarchies  and  aristocracies  which  ^re  hered- 
38 


298  SUBJECTION  TO 

itary,  the  j)icscri|ttioii  operates  in  lavour  of  particular  families  ; 
in  republics  and  elective  olVices,  in  favour  of  particular  forms  of 
government,  or  constitutions.  Nor  is  it  to  be  wondered  at,  that 
mankind  should  reverence  authority  founded  in  prescription, 
when  they  observe  that  it  is  prescription  which  confers  a  title 
to  almost  every  thing  else.  The  whole  course  and  all  the  habits 
of  civil  life,  favour  this  prejudice.  Upon  what  other  foundation 
stands  any  man's  right  to  his  estate  ?  The  right  of  primogeni- 
ture, the  succession  of  kindred,  the  descent  of  property,  the  in- 
heritance of  honours,  the  demand  of  tithes,  tolls,  rents,  or  servi- 
ces from  the  estates  of  others,  the  right  of  way,  the  powers  of 
office  and  magistracy,  the  privileges  of  nobility,  the  immunities 
of  the  clergy,  upon  wliat  are  they  all  founded,  in  the  apprehen- 
sion at  least  of  the  multitude,  but  open  prescription  ?  To  what 
else,  when  the  claims  are  contested,  is  the  appeal  made  ?  It  is 
natural  to  transfer  the  same  [)rinciple  to  the  aflairs  of  govern- 
ment, and  to  regard  those  exertions  of  power,  which  have  been 
long  exercised  and  acquiesced  in,  as  so  many  rights  in  the  sove- 
reign ;  and  to  consider  obedience  to  his  commands,  within  cer- 
tain accustomed  limits,  as  enjoined  by  that  rule  of  conscience, 
which  requires  us  to  render  to  every  man  his  due. 

In  hereditary  monarcliies,  Ihe  prescriptive  title  is  corroborated, 
and  its  influence  considerably  augmented,  by  an  accession  of  re- 
ligious sentiments,  and  by  that  sacredness  which  men  arc  wont 
to  ascribe  to  the  persons  of  princes.  Princes  themselves  have 
not  failed  to  take  advantage  of  this  disposition,  by  claiming  a 
superior  dignity,  as  it  were,  of  nature,  or  a  peculiar  delegation 
from  the  Supreme  Being.  For  this  purpose  were  introduced  thd 
titles  of  sacred  majesty  of  God's  annointed,  representative,  vice- 
gerent, together  with  the  ceremonies  of  investitures  and  corona- 
tions, which  are  calculated  not  so  much  to  recognize  the  author- 
ity of  sovereigns,  as  to  consecrate  their  persons.  Where  a  fabu- 
lous religion  permitted  it,  the  public  veneration  has  been  chal- 
lenged by  bolder  pretensions.  The  Roman  emperors  usurped 
the  titles  and  arrogated  the  worship  of  gods.     The  mythology 


CIVIL  GOVERNMENT.  '         2^^ 

of  the  heroic  ages,  and  of  many  barbarous  nations,  was  easily 
converted  to  this  purpose.  Some  princes,  like  the  heroes  of 
Homer,  and  the  founder  of  the  Roman  name,  derived  their  birth 
iVom  the  gods  ;  others,  with  Numa,  pretended  a  secret  but  su- 
pernatui'al  communication  with  some  divine  being  ;  and  others, 
again,  like  the  Incas  of  Peru,  and  the  ancient  Saxon  kings,  ex- 
tracted their  descent  from  the  deities  of  their  country.  The 
Lama  of  Thibet,  at  this  day,  is  held  forth  to  his  subjects,  not  as 
the  offspring  or  successor  of  a  divine  race  of  princes,  but  as  the 
immortal  God  himself,  the  object  at  once  of  civil  obedience  and 
religious  adoration.  This  instance  is  singular,  and  may  be  ac- 
counted the  furthest  point  to  which  the  abuse  of  human  creduli- 
ty has  evei-  been  carried.  But  in  all  these  instances  the  pur- 
pose was  the  same, — to  engage  the  reverence  of  mankind,  by 
au  application  to  their  religious  principles. 

The  reader  will  be  careful  to  observe,  that  in  this  article  we 
denominate  every  opinion  a  prejudice,  which,  whether  true  or 
false,  is  not  founded  upon  argument,  in  the  mind  of  the  person 
who  entertains  it. 

II.  They  who  obey  from  reason,  that  is  to  say,  from  con- 
science, as  instructed  by  reasonings  and  conclusions  of  their  own, 
are  determined  by  the  consideration  of  the  necessity  of  some 
government  or  other  ;  the  certain  mischief  of  civil  commotions  ; 
and  the  danger  of  re-seltling  the  government  o/  their  counby 
better,  or  at  all,  if  once  subverted  or  disturbed. 

III.  They  who  obey  from  self-interest,  are  kept  in  order  by 
xvant  of  leisure  :  by  a  succession  of  private  cares,  pleasures,  and 
engagements  ;  by  contentment,  or  a  sense  of  ease,  plenty,  and 
Safety  which  they  enjoy  ;  or,  lastly,  and  principally,  by  fear, 
foreseeing  that  they  would  bring  thewselves  by  resistance  into 
a  worse  situation  than  their  prefent,  inasmifch  as  the  strength  of 
government,  each  discontented  subject  reflects,  is  greater  than 
feis  own,  and  he  knows  not  that  others  would  join  him. 

This  last  consideration  has  often  been  called  opinion  of  power.. 


f 


300  sOBjEcrroN  to 

This  account  of  Ihc  principles  by  which  mankind  are  relaiiied 
in  their  obcdioiice  to  civil  government,  may  suggest  tl)e  follow- 
ing cautions  : — 

1.  Let  civil  governors  learn  from  hence  to  respect  their  sub- 
jects ;  Jet  them  be  admonished,  that  the  physical  strength  resides 
ifi  the  governed ;  thot  this  strength  wants  only  to  be  fr-It  and 
roused,  to  lay  prostrate  the  most  ancient  and  confirmed  domin- 
ion ;  that  civil  authority  is  founded  in  (tpinion  ;  that  general 
opinion  tliercfoB* ought  always  to  be  treated  with  deference,  and 
managed  with  delicacy  and  circumspection. 

2.  Opinioa  of  right,  always  following  the  custom,  feeing  for 
the  most  part  founded  in  nothing  else,  and  lending  one  principal 
support  to  government,  every  innovation  in  the  constitution,  or, 
in  other  words,  in  the  custom  of  governing,  diminishes  the  sta- 
bility of  government.  Hence  souje  absurdities  are  to  be  retain- 
ed, and  many  small  inconveniences  endured  in  every  country, 
rather  than  tiiat  the  usage  should  be  violated,  or  the  course  of 
public  affairs  diverted  from  their  old  and  smooth  channel.  Even 
names  are  not  indifferent.  When  the  multitude  are  to  be  dealt 
with,  there  is  a  charm  in  sounds.  It  w^as  upon  this  principle, 
that  several  statesmen  of  those  times,  advised  Cromwell  to  as- 
sume the  title  of  king,  together  with  the  ancient  style  and  insig- 
nia of  royalty.  The  minds  of  many,  they  contended,  would  be 
brought  to  acquiesce  in  the  authority  of  a  King,  who  suspected 
the  office,  and  were  offended  with  the  administration  of  a  Pro- 
tector. Novelty  reminded  theui  of  usurpation.  The  adversa- 
ries of  this  design  opposed  ihe  measure,  from  the  same  persua- 
sion of  the  efficacy  of  names  and  forms,  jealous  lest  the  venera- 
tion paid  to  these,  should  add  an  influence  to  the  new  settlement, 
which  might  ensnare  the  liberty  of  the  commonwealth. 

3.  Govern niaU  may  be  too  secure.  The  greatest  tyrants  have 
been  those,  whose  titles  were  tlie  most  uiuiuestioned.  Whenever 
therefore  the  opinion  of  right  becomes  too  predominant  and  su- 
pcrgtilious,  it  is  abated  by  breaking  the  custom.  Thus  the  Re- 
volution broke  the  custom  of  succesiion,  and  thereby  moderated. 


CIVIL  GOVERNMEx\T.  301 

both  in  the  prince  and  in  the  people,  those  lofty  notions  of  he- 
reditary right,  which  in  the  one  were  become  a  continual  temp- 
tation to  tyranny,  and  disposed  the  other  to  invite  servitude,  by 
undue  compliances  and  dangerous  concessions. 

4.  As  ignorance  of  union,  and  want  of  communication,  appear 
amongst  the  principal  preservatives  of  civil  authority,  it  behoves 
every  state  to  keep  its  subjects  in  this  want  and  ignorance,  not 
only  by  vigilance  in  guarding  against  actual  confederacies  and 
combinations,  but  by  a  timely  care  to  prevent  great  collections 
of  men  of  any  separate  party  of  religion,  or  of  like  occupation 
or  profession,  or  in  any  way  connected  by  a  participation  of  in- 
terest or  passion,  from  settling  in  the  same  vicinity.  A  Protes- 
tant establishment  in  this  country  may  have  little  to  fear  from 
its  Popish  subjects,  scattered  as  they  are  throughout  the  kingdom, 
and  intermixed  with  the  Protestant  inhabitants,  which  yet  might 
think  them  a  formidable  body,  if  they  were  gathered  together 
into  one  county.  The  most  frequent  and  desperate  riots  are 
those  which  break  out  amongst  men  of  the  same  profession,  as 
weavers,  miners,  sailors.  This  'circumstance  makes  a  mutiny 
of  soldiers  more  to  be  dreaded  than  any  other  insurrection. 
Hence  also  one  danger  of  an  overgrown  metropolis,  and  of  those 
great  cities  and  crowded  districts,  into  which  the  inhabitants  of 
trading  countries  are  commonly  collected.  The  worst  effect  of 
popular  tumults  consists  in  this,  that  they  discover  to  the  insur- 
gents the  secret  of  their  own  strength,  teach  them  to  depend  up- 
on it  against  a  future  occasion,  and  both  produce  and  diifuse  sen- 
timents of  contidence  in  one  another,  and  assurances  of  mutual 
support.  Leagues  thus  formed  and  strengthened,  may  overawe 
or  overset  the  power  of  any  state  ;  and  the  danger  is  greater,  in 
proportion  as,  from  the  propinquity  of  habitation  and  intercourse 
of  employment,  the  passions  and  counsels  of  a  party  can  be  cir- 
culated with  ease  and  rapidity.  It  is  by  these  means,  and  in 
such  situations,  that  the  minds  of  men  are  so  affected  and  pre- 
pared, that  the  most  dreadful  uproars  often  arise  from  the  slight- 
est provocations.  When  the  train  is  laid,  a  spark  will  produce 
the  explosion. 


f 

if 


30ii  OF  SUBMISSION. 


CHAPTER  111. 

THE  DUTY  OF  SUBMISSION  TO  CIVIL  GOVERNMEN  T  EX- 
PLAINED. 

THE  subject  of  this  chapter  js  suITicienlly  distinguished  fruiu 
the  subject  of  the  last,  as  the  motives  which  actually  produce 
'civil  obedience  may  be,  and  often  are,  very  different  from  the 
reasons  which  make  that  obedience  a  duty. 

In  order  to  prove  civil  obedience  to  be  a  moral  duty,  and  an 
obligation  upon  the  conscience  of  the  subject,  it  hath  been  usual 
with  many  political  writers,  (at  the  head  of  whom  we  find  the 
venerable  name  of  Locke,)  to  state  a  compact  between  the  citi- 
zen and  the  state,  as  the  ground  and  cause  of  the  relation  be- 
tween them  ;  which  compact,  binding  the  parties  for  tlic  samr 
general  reason  that  private  contracts  do,  resolves  the  duty  of 
submission  to  civil  government  into  the  universal  obligation  of 
fidelity  in  the  performance  of  promises.  This  compact  is  two- 
fold :— 

First,  An  express  compact  by  the  primitive  (bunders  of  the 
state,  who  are  supposed  to  have  convened  for  the  declared  pur- 
pose of  settling  the  terms  of  their  political  union,  and  a  future 
constitution  of  government.  The  whole  body  is  supposed,  in 
the  first  place,  to  have  unanimously  consented  to  be  bound  by 
the  resolutions  of  the  majority  ;  that  majority,  in  the  next  place, 
to  have  fixed  certain  fundamental  regulations,  and  then  to  have 
constituted  either  in  one  person,  or  in  an  assembly,  (the  rule  of 
succession  or  appointment  being  at  the  same  lime  determined,)  a 
standing  legislature,  to  whom,  under  these  pre-established  restric- 
tions, the  government  of  the  state  was  thejicetbrward  committed, 
and  whose  laws  the  several  members  of  the  convention  were,  by 
Ihcir  first  undertaking,  thus  personally  engaged  to  obey. — This 
iransaetion  is  sometimes  called  the  sosial  compact,,  and  these  sup- 


OF  SUBMISSrCMV.  SCS 

posed  original  regulations  compose  what  are  meant  bj  the  consti- 
tution, the  fundamental  laws  of  the  constitution  ;  and  form,, on 
one  side,  the  inherent,  indefeasible  prerogative  of  the  crown  ;  and, 
on  the  other,  the  unalienable  birthright  of  the  subject. 

Secondly,  A  tacit  or  implied  compact,  by  all  succeeding  mem- 
bers of  the  state,  who,  by  accepting  its  protection,  consent  to  be 
bound  by  its  laws  ;  in  like  manner  as,  whoever  voluntarily  en- 
ters into  a  private  society  is  understood,  without  any  other  or 
more  explicit  stipulation,  to  promise  a  conformity  with  the  rules, 
and  obedience  to  the  government  of  that  society,  as  the  known 
conditions  upon  which  he  is  admitted  to  a  participation  of  its 
privileges. 

This  account  of  the  subject,  although  specious,  and  patronized 
by  names  the  most  respectable,  appears  to  labour  under  the  fol- 
lowing objections  :  tliat  it  is  founded  upon  a  supposition  false  in 
fact,  and  leading  to  dangerous  conclusions. 

No  social  compact,  similar  to  what  is  here  described,  was  evor 
made  or  entered  into  in  reality  ;  no  such  original  convention  of 
the  people  was  ever  actually  held,  or  in  any  country  could  be 
held,  antecedent  to  the  existence  of  civil  government  in  that  coun- 
try. It  is  to  suppose  it  possible  to  call  savages  out  cf  caves  and 
deserts,  to  deliberate  and  vote  upon  topics,  which  the  experi- 
ence, and  studies,  and  refinements  of  civil  life  aJone  suggest. 
Therefore  no  goveniment  in  the  universe  began  from  this  orii'-inal. 
Some  imitation  of  a  social  compact  may  have  taken  place  at  a 
revolution.  The  present  age  has  been  witness  to  a  transaction^ 
which  bears  the  nearest  resemblance  to  this  political  idea  cf  any 
of  which  history  has  preserved  the  account  or  memory  :  I  refer 
to  the  establishment  of  the  United  States  of  North  America. 
We  saw  the  people  assembled  to  elect  deputies,  for  the  avowed 
purpose  of  framing  the  constitution  of  a  new  empire.  We  saw 
this  deputation  of  the  peijple  deliberating  and  resolving  upon  a 
form  of  government,  erecting  a  permanent  legislature,  distribu- 
ting the  functions  of  sovereignty,  establishing  and  promulgating 
a  code  of  fundamental  ordinances,  v/bich  were  to  be  considered 


304  OF  SUBMISSION. 

by  succeeding  generations,  not  merely  as  laws  and  acts  oi 
the  state,  but  as  the  very  terms  and  conditions  of  the  confeder- 
ation ;  as  binding  not  only  upon  the  subjects  and  magistrates 
of  the  state,  but  as  limitations  of  power  which  were  to  control 
and  regulate  the  future  legislature.  Yet  even  here  much  was 
presupposed.  In  settling  the  constitution,  many  important  parts 
were  presumed  to  be  already  settled.  The  qualifications  of 
the  constituents  who  were  admitted  to  vote  in  the  election  of 
members  of  congress,  as  well  as  the  mode  of  electing  the  rep- 
resentatives, were  taken  from  the  old  forms  ot  government.  That 
was  wanting,  from  which  every  social  union  should  set  off,  and 
which  alone  makes  the  resolution  of  the  society  the  act  of  the  in- 
dividual,— the  unconstrained  consent  of  all  to  be  bound  by  the 
decision  of  the  majority  ;  and  yet,  without  this  previous  con- 
sent, the  revolt,  and  the  regulations  which  followed  it,  were  com- 
pulsory upon  dissentients. 

But  the  original  compact,  we  are  told,  is  not  proposed  as  a 
fact,  but  as  a  fiction,  which  furnishes  a  commodious  explication 
of  the  mutual  rights  and  duties  of  sovereigns  and  subjects.  In 
answer  to  this  representation  of  the  matter,  we  observe,  that  the 
original  coiDpact,  if  it  be  not  a^fact,  is  nothing  ;  can  confer  no 
actual  authority  upon  laws  or  magistrates  ;  nor  afford  any  foun- 
dation to  rights,  which  are  supposed  to  be  real  and  existing.  But 
the  truth  is,  that  in  the  books,  and  in  the  apprehension,  of  those 
who  deduce  our  civil  rights  and  obligations  a /)rtc//s,  the'original 
convention  is  appealed  to  and  treated  of  as  reality.  Whenever 
the  disciples  of  this  system  speak  of  the  constitution  ;  of  the  fun- 
damental articles  of  the  constitution  ;  of  laws  being  constitutional^ 
or  unconstitutional  ;  of  inherent,  unalienable,  inextinguishable 
rights,  either  in  the  prince,  or  the  people;  or  indeed  of  any 
laws,  usages,  or  civil  rights,  as  transcending  the  authority  of  the 
subsisting  legislature,  or  possessing  aArce  and  sanction  superior 
to  what  belong  to  the  modern  acts  and  edicts  of  the  legislature, 
they  secretly  refer  us  to  what  passed  at  the  original  convention. 
They  would  teach  us  to  believe,  that  certain  rules  and  ordinan- 


dF  StlBMtSSlON.  305 

■ses  were  established  by  the  people,  at  the  same  time  that  they 
settled  the  charter  of  government,  and  the  powers  as  well  as 
the  form  of  the  future  legislature  ;  which  legislature  eorrse- 
quently,  deriving  its  commission  and  existence  from  the  con- 
sent and  act  of  the  primitive  assembly,  (of  which  indeed  it  is 
Qnly  the  standing  deputation,)  continues  subject,  in  the  exer- 
cise of  its  offices,  and  as  to  the  extent  of  its  power,  to  the  rules, 
reservations,  and  limitations  which  the  same  assembly  then  made 
and  prescribed  to  it. 

"~As  the  first  members  of  the  state  were  bound  by  express 
"  stipulation  to  obey  the  government  which  they  had  erected  ; 
"so  the  succeeding  inhabitants  of  the  same  country  are  under- 
"  stood  to  promise  allegiance  to  the  constitution  and  government 
*'  they  find  established^  by  accepting  its  protection,  claiming  its 
"  privileges,  and  acquiescing  in  its  laws  ;  more  especially,  by 
"the  purchase  or  inheritance  of  lands,  to  the  possession  of 
"which,  allegiance  to  the  state  is  annexed,  as  the  very  service 
"and  condition  of  the  tenure."  Smoothly  as  this  train  of  ar- 
gument proceeds,  little  of  it  will  endure  examination.  The 
native  subjects  of  modern  states  are  not  conscious  of  any  stip- 
ulation with  their  sovereigns,  of  ever  exercising  an  election 
whether  they  vvill  be  bound  or  not  by  the  acts  of  the  legisla- 
ture, of  any  alternative  being  proposed  to  their  choice,  of  a 
promise  either  required  or  given  ;  nor  do  they  apprehend  that 
the  validity  or  authority  of  the  laws  depends  at  all  upon  their 
recognition  or  consent.  In  all  stipulations,  whether  they  be 
expressed  or  implied,  private  or  public,  formal  or  constructive, 
the  parlies  stipulating  must  both  possess  the  liberty  of  assent 
and  refusal,  and  also  be  conscious  of  this  liberty  ;  which  can- 
not with  truth  be  affirmed  of  the  subjects  of  civil  government, 
as  government  is  now  or  ever  was,  actually  administered.  This 
is  a  defect,  which  no  arguments  can  excuse  or  supply  :  all  pre- 
sumptions  of  consent,  without  this  consciousness,  or  in  opposi- 
tion to  it,  are  vain  and  erroneous.  Still  less  is  it  possible  to  re- 
foncile  with  atjy  idea  of  stipulation  the  practice,  in  which  dll 
39 


306  OF  SUBMISSION. 

European  nations  agroe,  of  founding  allegiance  upon  the  circum- 
stance of  nativity,  that  is,  of  claiming  and  treating  as  subjects 
all  those  who  are  born  within  the  confines  of  their  dominion?, 
although  removed  to  another  country  in  their  youth  or  infancy. 
Tn  this  instance,  certainly,  the  state  does  not  presume  a  com- 
pact. Also,  if  the  subject  be  bound  only  by  his  own  consent, 
and  if  the  voluntary  abiding  in  a  country  be  the  proof  and  inti- 
mation of  that  consent,  by  what  arguments  shall  we  defend  the 
right,  which  sovereigns  universally  assume,  of  prohibiting,  when 
they  please,  the  departure  of  their  subjects  out  of  the  realm  ? 

Again,  when  it  is  contended  that  the  taking  and  holding  pos- 
session of  land  amounts  to  an  acknowledgment  of  the  sove- 
reign, and  a  virtual  promise  of  allegiance  to  his  laws,  it  is  ne- 
cessary to  the  validity  of  the  argument  to  prove,  that  the  in- 
;  habitants,  who  first  composed  and  constituted  the  state,  collec- 
tively possessed  a  right  to  the  soil  of  the  country  ;  a  right  to 
parcel  it  out  to  whom  they  [)leased,  and  to  annex  to  the  dona- 
tion what  conditions  they  thought  fit.  How  came  they  by  this 
right  ?  An  agreement  amongst  themselves  would  not  confer  it ; 
that  could  only  adjust  what  already  belonged  to  tlicm,  A  so- 
ciety of  men  vote  themselves  to  be  the  owners  of  a  region  of 
the  world  : — does  that  vote,  unaccompanied  especially  with 
any  culture,  enclosure,  or  proper  act  of  occupation,  make  it 
theirs  ?  does  it  entitle  them  to  exclude  others  from  it,  or  to  dic- 
tate the  conditions  upon  which  it  shall  be  enjoyed  ?  Yet  this 
original  collective  right  and  ownership  is  the  foundation  of  all 
the  reasoning  by  which  the  duty  of  allegiance  is  inferred  from 
the  possession  of  land. 

The  theory  of  government  which  affirms  the  existence  and  the 
obligation  of  a  social  compact,  would,  after  all,  merit  little  dis- 
cussion, and,  however  groundless  and  unnecessary,  should  re- 
ceive no  opposition  from  us,  did  it  not  appear  to  lead  to  con- 
clusions unfavourable  to  the  improvement,  and  to  the  peace,  of 
human  society. 

1st,  Upon  the  supposition  that  government  was  first  erectf^d 


OF  SUBMISSION.  307 

by,  a«d  that  it  derives  all  its  just  authority  from  resolutions  en- 
tered into  by  a  convention  of  the  people,  it  is  capable  of  being 
presumed,  that  many  points  were  settled  by  that  convention, 
anterior  to  the  establishment  of  the  subsisting  legislature,  and 
which  the  legislature,  consequently,  has  no  right  to  alter,  or  in- 
terfere with.  These  points  are  called  the  fundamentals  of  the 
constitution  ;  and  as  it  is  impossible  to  determine  how  many,  or, 
what  they  are,  the  suggesting  of  any  such  serves  extremely  to 
embarrass  the  deliberations  of  the  legislature,  and  affords  a  dan- 
gerous pretence  for  disputing  the  authority  of  the  laws.  It  was 
this  sort  of  reasoning  (so  far  aii  reasoning  of  any  kind  was  em- 
ployed in  the  question)  that  produced  in  this  >nation  the  doubt 
which  so  much  agitated  the  minds  of  men  in  the  reign  of  the  se- 
cond Charles,  whether  an  act  of  Parliament  could  of  right  alter 
or  limit  the  succession  -of  the  Cvovm.-j'-  "'  ' 

2c?/^.,  If  it  be  by  virtue  of  a  compact  that  the  subject  ovves  obe- 
•dience  to  civil  government,  it  will  follow  that  he  ought  to  abide 
Iby  the  form  of  government  which  he  finds  established,  be  it  ev- 
«r  so  absurd  or  inconvtinient.  He  is  bound  by  his  bargain.  Iv: 
is  not  permitted  to  any  man  to  retreat  from  his  engagement, 
merely  because  he  finds  the  performance  disadvantageous,  or 
because  he  has  an  opportunity  of  entering  into  a  better.  This 
law  of  contracts  is  universal  ;  and  to  call  the  relation  between 
the  sovereign  and  the  subject  a  contract,  yet  not  to  apply  to  i4: 
the  rules,  or  allow  of  the  effects  of  a  contract,  is  an  arbitrary  us^ 
of  names,  and  an  unsteadiness  in  reasoning,  vviiich  can  teack 
nothing.  Resistance  to  the  encroachrmnts  of  the  supreme  naag- 
istrate  may  be  justified  upon  this  principle  ;  recourse  to  arms, 
for  the  purpose  of  bringing  about  an  amendment  of  the  constitu- 
tion, never  can.  No  form  of  government  contains  a  provision  for 
its  own  dissolution  ;  and  few  governors  will  consent  to  the  ex- 
tinction, or  even  to  any  abridgment  of  their  own  power.  It  does 
not  therefore  appear,  how  despotic  gt)vernments  con  ever,  in  con- 
•sistency  with  the  obligation  of  the  bubject,  be  changed  or  miti- 
jgated.     Despotism  is  the  constitution  of  many  states ;  and  whilst 


308  OF  SUBMISSION. 

a  despotic  prince  exacts  from  his  siibjpcts  the  most  rigorou';  ser- 
vitude, according  to  this  account,  he  is  only  holding  th^m  to 
their  agreement.  They  may  vindicate,  hy  force,  the  rights 
which  the  constitution  has  left  them  ;  but  every  attempt  to  nar- 
row the  prerogative  of  the  crown,  by  new  limitations,  and  in 
opposition  to  the  will  of  the  reigning  prince,  whatever  opportu- 
ities  may  invite,  or  success  follow  it,  must  be  condemned  as  an 
infraction  of  the  compact  between  the  sovereign  and  the  subject. 
2dlyy  Every  violation  of  the  compact  on  the  part  of  the  gover- 
nor, releases  the  subject  from  his  allegiance,  and  dissolves  the  go- 
vernment.  I  do  not  perceive  how  we  can  avoid  this  consequence, 
jf  we  found  the  duty  of  allegiance  upon  the  compact,  and  confess 
any  analogy  between  the  social  compact  and  other  contracts. 
In  private  contracts,  the  violation  or  non-performance  of  the  con- 
ditions, by  one  of  the  parties,  vacates  the  obligation  of  the  other. 
Now,  the  terms  and  articles^of  the  social  compact  being  nowhere 
extant  or  expressed  ;  the  rights  and  offices  of  the  administrator 
of  an  empire  being  so  many  and  various  ;  the  imaginary  and 
controverted  line  of  his  prerogative  being  so  liable  to  be  over- 
stepped in  one  part  or  other  of  it  ;  the  position,  that  every 
such  transgression  amounts  to  a  forfeiture  of  the  government,  and 
consequently  authorizes  the  people  to  withdraw  their  obedience, 
and  provide  for  themselves  by  a  new  settlement,  would  endanger 
the  stability  of  every  political  fabric  in  the  world,  and  has  in 
fact  always  supplied  the  disafTecled  with  a  topic  of  seditious  de- 
clamation. If  occasions  have  arisen,  in  which  this  plea  has 
been  resorted  to  with  Justice  and  success,  they  have  been  occar 
sions  in  which  a  revolution  was  defensible  upon  other  and  plainer 
principles.     The  plea  itself  is  at  all  times  captious  and  unsafe. 

Whereforr,  riejecliiig  the  intervention  of  a  compact,  as  unr 
founded  in  its  })rinciple,  and  dangerous  in  the  application,  we 
assign  for  the  only  ground  of  the  subject's  obligation,  the  will 

©F  OOD,  AS  COLLECTED  FROM  EXTEDIENCy. 

T!;e  steps  by  which  the  argument  proceeds  are  few  and  di» 


OF  SUBMISSION.  309 

rect. — "  It  is  the  will  of  God  that  the  happiness  of  human  life 
"  be  promoted  :" — this  is  the  first  step,  and  the  foundation,  not 
only  of  this,  but  of  every  moral  conclusion.  "  Civil  society 
*'  conduces  to  that  end  :" — this  is  the  second  proposition.  "  Ci- 
^*'  vil  societies  cannot  be  upheld,  unless  in  each,  the  interest  of 
"  the  whole  society  be  binding  upon  every  part  and  member  of 
"  it :" — this  is  the  third  step,  and  conducts  us  to  the  conclusion, 
'*  namely,  that  so  long  as  the  interest  of  the  whole  society  re- 
■*'  quires  it,  that  is,  so  long  as  the  established  government  cannot 
"  be  resisted  or  changed  without  public  inconveniency,  it  is  the 
"will  of  God  (which  will  universalFy  determines  our  duty)  that 
"  the  established  government  be  obeyed," — and  no  longer. 

This  principle  being  admitted,  the  justice  of  every  particular 
<:ase  of  resistance  is  reduced  to  a  computation  of  the  quantity  of 
the  danger  and  grievance  on  the  one  side,  and  of  the  probability 
$nd  expense  of  redressing  it  on  the  other. 

But  who  shall  judge  of  this  ?  We  answer,  "  Every  man  for 
^'  himself."  In  contentions  between  the  sovereign  and  the  sub- 
ject, the  parties  acknowledge  no  common  arbitrator  ;  and  it 
would  be  absurd  to  commit  the  decision  to  those  whose  conduct 
has  provoked  the  question,  and  whose  own  interest,  authority, 
and  fate,  are  immediately  concerned  in  it.  The  danger  of  er- 
ror and  abuse  is  no  objection  to  the  rule  of  expediency,  because 
every  other  rule  is  liable  to  the  same  or  greater  ;  and  every  rule 
that  can  be  propounded  upon  the  subject  (like  all  rules  which 
appeal  to,  or  bind  the  conscience)  must  in  the  application  de- 
pend upon  private  judgment.  It  may  be  observed,  however, 
that  it  ought  equally  to  be  accounted  the  exercise  of  a  man's 
private  judgjnent,  whether  he  be  determined  by  reasonings  and 
conclusions  of  his  own,  or  submit  to  be  directed  bj'  the  advice 
ot  others,  provided  he  be  free  to  choose  his  guide. 

We  proceed  to  point  out  some  easy  but  important  inferences, 
which  result  from  the  substitution  of  public  expediency  into  tha 
place  of  all  implied  compacts,  promises,  or  conventions  vvbatsov 
ever. 


310  OF  SUBMISSION. 

I.  It  may  he  as  much  a  duty,  at  one  time,  to  resist  govern- 
ment, 3s  it  is,  at  another,  to  obey  it ;  to  wil.,  whenever  more  ad- 
vantage will,  in  our  opinion,  accrue  to  the  community,  from  re- 
sistance, than  mischief. 

II,  The  lawfuhiess  of  resistance,  or  the  lawfulness  of  a  revolt, » 
•does  not  depend  alone  upon  the  grievance  which  is  sustained  or 
feared,  but  also  upon  the  probable  expense  and  event  of  the 
contest.  They  who  concerted  the  Revolution  in  Etigland  were 
justifiable  in  their  counsels,  because,  from  the  apparent  disposi- 
tion of  the  nation,  and  the  strength  and  character  of  the  parties 
engaged,  the  measure  was  likely  to  be  brought  about  with  little 
mischief  or  bloodshed  ;  whereas,  it  might  have  been  a  question 
with  many  friends  of  their  country,  whether  the  injuries  then  en- 
dured and  threatened  would  have  authorized  the  renewal  of  a 
doubtful  civil  war. 

HI.  Irregularity  in  the  first  foundation  of  a  state,  or  subse- 
quent violence,  fraud,  or  injustice,  in  getting  possession  of  the 
supreme  power,  are  not  sufficient  reasons,  for  resistance,  after 
"the  government  is  once  peaceably  settled.  No  subject  of  the 
British  empire  conceives  himself  engaged  to  vindicate  the  jus- 
tice of  the  Norman  claim  or  conquest,  or  apprehends  that  his 
duty  in  any  manner  depends  upon  that  controversy.  So,  like- 
wise, if  the  house  of  Lancaster,  or  even  the  posterity  of  Crom- 
well, had  been  at  this  day  seated  upon  the  throne  of  England, 
we  should  have  been  as  little  concerned  to  inquire  how  the 
founder  of  the  family  came  there.  No  civil  contests  are  so  futile, 
although  none  have  been  so  furious  and  sanguinary,  as  those 
which  are  excited  by  a  disputed  succession. 

IV.  Not  every  invasion  of  the  subject's  rights,  or  liberty,  or 
of  the  constitution  ;  not  every  breach  of  promise,  or  of  oath  ; 
not  every  stretch  of  prerogative,  abuse  of  power,  or  neglect  of 
duty  by  the  chief  magistrate,  or  by  the  whole  or  any  branch  of 
the  legislative  body,  justifies  resistance,  unless  these  crimes  draw 
after  them  public  consequences  of  sufficient  magnitude  to  out- 
weigh the  evils  of  civil  disturbance.     Nevertheless,  every  ri<5- 


OF  SUBMISSION.  311 

lation  of  the  constitution  ought  to  be  watched  with  jealousy,  and 
resented  as  such,  beyond  what  tlie  quantity  of  estimable  damage 
would  require  or  warrant  ;  because  a  known  and  settled  usage 
of  governing  affords  the  best  security  against  the  enormities  of 
uncontrolled  dominion,  and  because  this  security  is  weakened  by 
every  encroachment  which  is  made  without  opposition,  or  oppos- 
ed without  effect. 

V.  No  usage,  law,  or  authority  whatever,  is  so  binding,  that 
it  need  or  ought  to  be  continued,  when  it  may  be  changed  with 
advantage  to  the  community.  The  family  of  the  prince,  the 
order  of  succession,  the  prerogative  of  the  crown,  the  form  and 
parts  of  the  legislature,  together  with  the  respective  powers, 
office,  duration,  and  mutual  dependency  of  the  several  parts,  are 
all  only  so  many  laws,  mutable  like  other  laws,  whenever  expe- 
diency requires,  either  by  the  ordinary  act  of  the  legislature,  or,^ 
if  the  occasion  deserve  it,  by  the  interposition  of  the  people. 
These  points  are  wont  to  be  approached  with  a  kind  of  awe  ; 
they  are  represented  to  the  mind  as  principles  of  the  constitu- 
tion settled  by  our  ancestors,  and,  being  settled,  to  be  no  more 
committed  to  innovation  or  debate  ;  as  foundations  never  to  be 
stirred  ;  as  the  terms  and  conditions  of  the  social  compact,  to 
which  ev^ry  citizen  of  the  state  has  engaged  his  fidelity,  by  vir- 
tue of  a  promise  which  he  cannot  now  recal.  Suchyi'easons 
have  no  place  in  our  system  ;  to  us,  if  there  be  any  good  reason 
for  treating  these  with  more  deference  and  respect  than  other 
laws,  it  is,  either  the  advantage  of  the  present  constitution  of 
government,  (which  reason  must  be  of  different  force  in  different 
countries, )  or  because  in  all  countries  it  is  of  importance  that 
the  form  and  usage  of  governing  be  acknowledged  and  understood, 
as  well  by  the  governors  as  the  governed,  aud  because,  the  sel- 
domer  it  is  changed,  the  more  it  w  ill  be  respected  by  both  sides. 

VI.  As  all  civil  obligation  is  resolved  into  expediency,  what, 
it  may  be  asked,  is  the  difference  between  the  obligation  of  an 
Englishman  and  a  Frenchman  ?  or,  why  is  a  Frenchman  bound 
in  conscience  to  bear  any  thing  from  his  king,  which  an  English- 


dl2  OF  SUBMISSIOxN'. 

man  would  not  be  bound  to  bear,  since  the  obligation  of  both  iS 
iounded  in  tlie  same  reason  ?  Their  conditions  may  differ,  but 
their  rights,  according  to  this  account,  should  seem  to  be  equal  ; 
and  yet  we  are  accustomed  to  speak  of  the  rights  as  well  as  of 
the  happiness  of  a  free  people,  compared  with  what  belong  to 
the  subjects  of  absolute  monarchies  :  how,  you  will  say,  can 
this  comparison  be  explained,  unless  we  refer  to  a  difference  in 
the  compacts  by  which  they  are  respectively  bound  ? — This  is 
a  fair  question,  and  the  answer  to  it  will  afford  a  further  illustra- 
tration  of  our  principles.  We  admit,  then,  that  there  are  many 
things  which  a  Frenchman  is  bound  in  conscience,  as  well  as  by 
coercion,  to  endure  at  the  hands  of  his  prince,  to  which  an  Eng- 
lishman would  not  be  obliged  to  submit :  but  we  assert,  that  it 
is  for  these  two  reasons  alone  ;  first,  Because  the  same  act  of 
the  prince  is  not  the  same  grievance,  where  it  is  agreeable  to 
the  constitution,  as  where  it  infringes  it  ;  secondly,  Because  re- 
dress in  the  two  cases  is  not  equally  attainable.  Resistance 
cannot  be  attempted  with  equal  hopes  of  success,  or  with  the 
same  prospect  of  receiving  support  from  others,  where  the  peo- 
ple are  reconciled  to  their  sufferings,  as  where  they  are  alarmed 
by  innovation.  In  this  way,  and  no  otherwise,  the  subjects  of 
difierent  states  possess  different  civil  rights  ;  the  duty  of  obedi- 
ence is  defined  by  different  boundaries  ;  and  the  point  of  justifi- 
able resistance  placed  at  different  parts  of  the  scale  of  suffering  ; 
'all  which  is  sufficiently  intelligible  without  a  social  compact. 
VII,  "  The  interest  of  the  whole  society  is  binding  upon  ev- 
"  ery  part  of  it."  No  rule,  short  of  this,  Avill  provide  fur  the 
stability  of  civil  government,  or  for  the  peace  and  safety  of  so- 
cial life.  Wherefore,  as  individual  members  of  the  state  are  not 
permitted  to  pursue  their  private  emolument  to  the  prejudice  of 
the  community,  so  is  it  equally  a  consequence  of  this  rule,  that 
no  particular  colony,  province,  town,  or  district,  can  justly  con- 
cert measures  for  their  separate  interest,  which  shall  appear  at 
the  same  time  to  diminish  the  sum  of  public  prosperity.  I  do 
not  mean,  that  it  is  necessary  to  the  justice  of  a  measure,  that  it 


OF  SUBMISSION.  ^313 

lii'ofit  each  and  every  part  of  the  community  ;  (for,  as  the  hap- 
piness of  the  whole  may  be  increased,  whilst  that  of  some  parts 
is  diminished,  it  is  possible  that  the  conduct  of  one  part  of  an 
empire  may  be  detrimental  to  some  other  part,  and  yet  just,  pro- 
vided one  part  gain  more  in  happiness  than  the  other  part  loses, 
so  that  the  common  weal  be  augmented  by  the  change  ;)  but 
what  I  affirm  is,  that  those  counsels  can  never  be  reconciled  with 
the  obligations  resulting  from  civil  union,  which  cause  the  whole 
happiness  of  the  society  to  be  impaired  for  the  conveniency  of  a 
part.  This  conclusion  is  applicable  to  the  question  of  right  be- 
tween Great  Britian  and  her  revolted  colonies.  Had  I  been  an 
American,  1  should  not  have  thought  it  enough  to  have  had  it 
even  demonstrated,  that  a  separation  from  the  parent  state  would 
produce  effects  beneficial  to  America  ;  my  relation  to  that  state  im- 
posed upon  me  a  further  inquiry,  namely,  whether  the  whole  hap- 
piness of  the  empire  was  likely  to  be  promoted  by  such  a  meas- 
ure :  Not  indeed  the  hapjjiness  of  every  part  ;  that  was  not  ne- 
cessary, nor  to  be  expected  ; — but  whether  what  Great  Britian 
would  lose  by  the  separation,  was  likely  to  be  compensated  to 
the  joint  stock  of  happiness,  by  the  advantages  which  America 
would  receive  from  it.  The  contested  claims  of  sovereign  states, 
and  tlieir  remote  dependencies,  may  be  submitted  to  the  adjudi- 
cation of  this  rule  with  mutual  safety.  A  public  advantage  is 
measured  by  the  advantage  which  each  individual  receives,  and 
by  the  number  of  those  who  receive  it.  A  public  evil  is  com- 
pounded of  the  same  proportions.  Whilst,  therefore,  a  colony 
is  small,  or  a  province  thinly  inhabited,  if  a  competition  of  in- 
terests arise  between  the  original  country  and  their  acquired  do- 
jninions,  the  former  ought  to  be  preferred  ;  because  it  is  fit  that 
if  one  must  necessarily  be  sacrificed,  the  less  give  place  to  the 
j^realer  :  but  when,  by  an  increase  of  population,  the  interest  of 
the  provinces  begins  to  bear  a  considerable  proportion  to  the  en- 
lire  interest  of  the  community,  it  is  possible  that  they  may  suffer 
?o  much  by  their  subjection,  that  not  only  theirs,  but  the  whole 
happiness  of  the  empire  may  be  obstructed  by  their  union.  The 
40 


314  OF  CIVIL  OBEDlEi^CE. 

rule  and  principle  of  tbe  calculation  being  still  the  same,  the  re- 
sult is  difl'erent :  and  this  difference  begets  a  new  situation,  which 
entitles  the  subordinate  parts  of  the  state  to  more  equal  terms  of 
confederation,  and  if  these  be  refused,  to  independency.  ■ 


CHAPTER  IV. 

OF  THE  DUTY  OF  CIVIL  OBEDIENCE,  AS  STATED  IN  THE 
CHRISTIAN  SCRIPTURES. 

WE  affirm  that,  as  to  the  extent  of  our  civil  rights  and  obliga- 
tions, Christianity  hath  left  us  where  she  found  us  ;  that  she  hath 
neither  altered  nor  ascertained  it  ;  that  the  New  Testament  con- 
tains not  one  passage,  which,  fairly  interpreted,  affords  either 
argument  or  objection  applicable  to  any  conclusions  upon  the 
subject  that  are  deduced  from  the  law  and  religion  of  nature. 

The  only  passages  which  have  been  seriously  alledged  in  the 
controversy,  or  which  it  is  necessary  for  us  to  state  and  examine, 
are  the  two  following  ;  the  one  extracted  from  St.  Paul's  Epistle 
to  the  Romans,  the  other  from  the  First  General  Epistle  of  St, 
Peter  : 

Romans,  xiii.  1 — 7.  "  Let  every  soul  be  subject  unto  the 
"  higher  powers  :  For  thpe  is  no  power  but  of  God  ;  the  pow- 
"  ers  that  be  are  ordaine(V>f  God.  Whosoever  therefore  resist- 
*'  eth  the  power,  resisteth  the  ordinance  of  God  :  and  they  that 
"  resist,  shall  receive  to  themselves  damnation.  For  rulers  are 
"  not  a  terror  to  good  works,  but  to  the  evil.  Wilt  thou  then 
"  not  be  afraid  of  the  power  ?  Do  that  which  is  good,  and  thou 
"  shalt  have  praise  of  the  same  :  for  he  is  the  minister  of  God 
"  to  thee  for  good.  But  if  thou  do  that  which  is  evil,  be  afraid  ; 
"  for  he  beareth  not  the  sword  in  vain  ;  for  he  is  the  minister  of 
"  God  a  revenger  to  execute  wrath  upon  him  that  doeth  evil. 
*'  Wherefore  ye  must  needs  be  subject,  not  only  for  wrath,  bu5 


OF  CIVIL  OBEDIENCE.  315 

*•'  also  for  conscience  sake.  For,  for  this  cause  pay  you  tribute 
*'  also  :  for  they  are  God's  ministers,  attending  continually  upon 
"  this  very  thing.  Render  therefore  to  all  their  dues  ;  tribute 
"  to  whom  tribute  is  due,  custom  to  whom  custom,  fear  to  whom 
■'  fear,  honour  to  whom  honour." 

1  Peter,  ii.  13 — 18.  "  Submit  yourselves  to  every  ordi- 
"  nance  of  man,  for  the  Lord's  sake  ;  whether  it  b;e  to  the  King 
"  as  supreme  ;  or  unto  Governors,  as  unto  them  that  are  sent  by 
"him  for  the  punishment  of  .evil-doers,  and  for  the  praise  of 
"  them  that  do  well.  For  so  is  the  will  of  God,  that  with  well 
"doing  ye  may  put  to  silence  the  ignorance  of  foolish  men  ;  as 

•  free,  and  not  using  your  liberty  ibr  a  cloak  of  oialiciousnesSj, 

•  but  as  the  servants  of  God." 

To  comprehend  the  proper  import  of  these  instruc'tions,  let 
the  reader  reflect,  that  upon  the  subject  of  civil  obedience  there 
4ire  two  questions  ;  the  fir&t  whether  to  obey  government  be  a  mo- 
jral  duty  and  obligation  upon  the  conscience  at  all  ?  the  second, 
how  far,  <ind  to  what  cases,  tjiat  obedience  ought  to  extend  ? 
that  these  two  questioGS  are  so  disting-uishable  in  the  imagina- 
tion, that  it  is  possible  to  treat  of  the  one,  without  any  thought 
ot  the  other  ;  find  lastly,  that  if  expressions  which  relate  to  one 
of  these  questions  be  transferred  and  applied  to  the  other,  it  is 
with  great  danger  of  giving  them  a  signification  very  differeivt: 
from  the  author's  meaning.  This  distinction  is  not  only  possible^ 
but  natural.  If  I  met  with  a  person  who  appeared  to  entextsifl! 
doubts,  whether  civil  obedience  were  a  moial  duty  which  o'jghl 
to  be  voluntarily  discharged,  or  whether  it  were  not  a  mere  Gub- 
mission  to  force.,  like  that  which  vie  yield  to  a  robber  who  holds 
a  pistol  to  our  breast,  I  should  represent  to  him  the  use  and  offi- 
ces of  civil  government,  the  end  and  the  necessity  .cf  ci.vil  sub-- 
jection  ;  or,  if  I  preferred  a  different  theory,  1  should  explain  to 
him  the  social  compact,  urge  him  with  the  obligation  and  equity 
of  his  implied  promise  and  tacit  consent  to  be  governed  by  the 
Jaws  of  the  state  from  which  he  received  protection  ;  or  I  should 
argue,  perhaps,  that  nature  herself  dictated  the  law  of  subordina-- 


316  OF  CIVIL  OBEDIENCE. 

tion,  when  she  planted  within  us  an  inclination  to  associate  xvith 
our  species,  and  framed  us  with  capacities  so  various  and  une- 
qual. From  whatever  principle  I  set  out,  I  should  labour  to  in- 
fer from  it  this  conclusion,  "  That  obedience  to  the  state  is  to 
"  be  numbered  amongst  the  relative  duties  of  human  life,  for  the 
"  transf!;ression  of  which  we  shall  be  accountable  at  the  tribunal 
"  of  divine  jystice,  whether  the  magistrate  be  able  to  punish  us 
"  for  it  or  not  ;"  and  being  arrived  at  this  concluf^ion,  I  should 
stop,  having  delivered  the  conclusion  itself,  and  throughout  the 
whole  argument  expressed  the  obedience,  which  I  inculcated  in 
the  most  general  and  unqualified  terms  ;  all  reservations  and  re- 
strictions being  superfluous,  and  foreign  to  the  doubts  I  was  em- 
ployed to  remove. 

If,  in  a  short  time  afterwards,  I  should  be  accosted  by  the 
same  person,  with  complaints  of  public  grievances,  of  exorbitant 
taxes,  of  acts  of  cruelty  and  oppression,  of  tyrannical  encroach- 
ments upon  the  ancient  or  stipulated  rights  of  the  people,  and 
should  be  consulted  whether  it  were  lawful  to  revolt,  or  justifia- 
ble to  join  in  an  attempt  to  shake  off  the  yoke  by  open  resist- 
ance ;  1  should  certainly  consider  myself  as  having  a  case  in 
question  before  me  very  different  from  the  former,  I  should 
now  define  and  discriminate.  I  sliould  reply,  that  if  public  ex- 
pediency be  the  foundation,  it  is  also  the  measure  of  civil  obe- 
dience ;  that  the  obligation  of  subjects  and  sovereigns  is  recip- 
rocal ;  that  the  duty  of  allegiance,  whether  it  be  founded  in  util- 
ity or  compact,  is  neither  unlimited  nor  unconditional  ;  that 
peace  may  be  purchased  too  dear  ;  that  patience  becomes  cul- 
pable pusillanimity,  when  it  serves  only  to  encourage  our  rulers 
to  increase  the  weight  of  our  burthen,  or  to  bind  it  the  faster ; 
that  the  submission  which  surrenders  the  liberty  of  a  nation,  and 
entails  slavery  upon  future  generations,  is  enjoined  by  no  law 
of  rational  morality  ;  finally,  I  should  instruct  him  to  compare 
the  peril  and  expense  of  his  enterprise  with  the  effects  it  was 
expected  to  produce,  and  to  make  choice  of  the  alternative  by 
vyhich,  not  his  own  present  relief  or  profit,  but  the  whole  and 


OF  CIVIL  OBEDIENCE.  317 

|jertnanent  interest  of  the  state  was  likely  to  be  best  promoted. 
If  any  one  who  had  been  present  at  both  these  conversations 
should  upbraid  me  with  change  or  inconsistency  of  opinion, 
should  retort  upon  me  the  passive  doctrine  I  before  taught,  the 
large  and  absolute  terras  in  which  I  then  delivered  lessons  of 
obedience  and  submission,  I  should  account  myseif  unfairly 
dealt  with.  I  should  reply  that  the  only  difference  which  the 
language  of  the  two  conversations  presented  was,  that  I  added 
now  many  exceptions  arid  limitations  which  ^vere  o^nitted  or  un- 
thought  of  then  ;  that  this  difference  arose  naturally  from  the  two 
occasions,  such  exceptions  being  as  necessary  to  the  subject  of 
our  present  conference,  as  they  would  have  been  superfluous  and 
unseasonable  in  the  former.  Now,  the  difference  in  these  two 
conversations  is  precisely  the  distinction  to  be  taken  in  interprer 
ting  those  passages  of  scripture  concerning  which  we  are  debat- 
ing. They  inculcate  the  duty,  ihey  do  not  describe  the  extent 
of  it.  They  enforce  the  obligation  by  the  proper  sanctions  01 
Christianity  without  intending  either  to  enlarge  or  contracts 
without  considering  indeed  the  limits  by  which  it  is  bounded. 
This  is  also  the  method  in  which  the  same  apostles  enjoin  the 
duty  of  servants  to  their  masters,  of  children  to  their  parents,  of 
wives  to  their  husbands  :  "  Servants,  be  subject  to  your  masters." 
■ — "  Children,  obey  your  parents  in  all  things." — "  Wives,  sub- 
"mit  yourselves  unto  your  own  husbands."  The  same  concise  and 
absolute  form  of  expression  occurs  in  all  these  precepts,  the  same 
silence  as  to  any  exceptions  or  distinctions  ;  yet  no  one  doubts 
but  that  the  commands  of  masters,  parents,  and  husbands,  are 
often  so  immoderate,  unjust,  and  inconsistent  with  other  obliga- 
tions, that  they  both  may  and  ought  to  be  resisted.  In  letters 
or  dissertations  written  professedly  upon  separate  articles  of  mo- 
rality, we  might  with  more  reason  have  looked  for  a  precise  de- 
lineation of  our  duty,  and  some  degree  of  modern  accuracy  in 
the  rules  which  were  laid  down  for  our  direction  ;  but  in  those 
short  collections  of  practical  maxims  which  compose  the  conclu- 
sion, or  some  small  portion,  of  a  doctrinal,  or  perhaps  controver- 


318  OF  CIVIL  OBEDIENCE. 

c-ial  epislle,  we  cannot  be  surprised  to  find  the  author  more  soli- 
citous to  impress  the  duty,  than  curious  to  enumerate  exceptions. 
The  consideiation  of  this  distinction  is  alone  sufficient  to  vindi- 
cate these  passages  of  Scripture  from  ai)y  explanation  which  may 
be  put  upon  them,  in  favour  of  an  unlimited  passive  obedience. 
Bat  if  we  be  permitted  to  assume  a  supposition,  which  many 
commentators  proceed  upon  as  a  certainty,  that  the  first  Christ- 
ians privately  cherished  an  opinion,  that  their  conversion  to 
Christianity  entitled  them  to  new  immunities,  to  an  exemption, 
as  of  right  (however  they  might  give  way  to  necessity,)  from 
the  authority  of  the  Roman  sovereign,  we  are  furnished  with  a 
still  more  apt  and  satisfactory  interpretation  of  the  apostles' 
words.  1  The  two  passages  apply  with  great  propriety  to  the 
refutation  of  this  error  ;  they  teach  the  Christian  convert  to  o- 
bey  the  magistrate  "  for  the  Lord's  sake  ;"  "  not  only  for  wrath, 
"but  for  con^;cience  sake  : — "  there  is  no  power  but  of  God  ;" 
*'  that  the  powers  that  be,"  even  the  present  rulers  of  the  Ro- 
man empire,  though  heathens  and  usurpers,  seeing  they  are  in 
possession  of  the  actual  and  necessary  authority  of  civil  govern- 
ment, "  are  ordained  of  God,"  and,  consequently,  entitled  to 
receive  obedience  from  those  who  profess  themselves  the  pecu- 
iiar  sei'vants  of  God,  in  a  greater  (certainly  not  in  a  less)  degree 
than  from  any  others.  They  briefly  describe  the  offices  of 
*f  civil  governors,  the  punishment  of  evil  doers,  and  the  praise 
"of  ti)em  that  do  well ;"  from  which  description  of  the  use  of 
government,  they  justly  infer  the  duty  of  subjection  ;  which  du- 
ty being  as  extensive  as  the  reason  upon  which  it  is  founded, 
belongs  to  christians  no  less  than  to  the  heathen  members  of  the 
community.  If  it  be  admitted,  that  the  two  apostles  wrote  with 
a  view  to  this  particular  question,  it  will  be  confessed,  that  their 
words  cannot  be  transferred  to  a  question  totally  different  from 
this,  with  any  certainty  of  carrying  along  with  us  their  authority 
and  intention.  There  exists  no  resemblance  between  the  case 
of  a  primitive  convert,  who  disputed  the  jurisdiction  of  the  Ro- 
inan  govicrnmcpt  over  a  disciple  of  Christianity,  and  his  who,  ac- 


Ot"  CIVIL  OBEDIENCE.  5l9 

knowledging  the  general  authority  of  the  state  over  all  its  sub- 
jects, doubts  whether  that  authority  be  nut,  in  some  important 
branch  of  it,  so  ill  constituted,  or  abused,  as  to  warrant  the  en- 
deavours of  the  people  to  bring  about  a  reformation  by  force. 
Nor  can  we  judge  what  reply  the  apostles  would  have  made  to 
this  second  question,  if  it  had  been  proposed  to  them,  from  any 
thing  they  have  delivered  upon  Ihejirst ;  any  more  than  in  the  two 
consultations  above  described,  it  could  be  known  beforehand 
what  I  would  say  in  the  latter,  from  the  answer  which  1  gave  to 
the  former. 

The  only  defect  in  this  account  is,  that  neither  the  Scriptures, 
nor  any  subsequent  history  of  the  early  ages  of  the  church,  fur- 
nish any  direct  attestation  of  the  existence  of  such  disaffected 
sentiments  amongst  the  j  rimitive  converts.  They  supply  indeed 
some  circumstances  which  render  probable  the  opinion,  that  ex- 
travagant notions  of  the  political  rights  of  the  Christian  state 
were  at  that  time  entertained  by  many  proselytes  to  the  reli- 
gion. From  the  question  proposed  to  Christ,  "  Is  it  lawful  to 
"give  tribute  unto  Cesar?"  it  may  be  presumed  that  doubts 
had  been  started  in  the  Jewish  schools  concerning  the  obligation, 
or  even  lawfulness,  of  submission  to  the  Roman  yoke.  The  ac- 
counts deliveied  by  Josephus,  of  various  insurrections  of  the 
Jews  of  that  and  tlie  following  age,  excited  by  this  principle, 
or  upon  this  pretence,  confirm  the  presumption.  For,  as  the 
Christians  were  at  first  chiefly  taken  from  the  Jews,  confounded 
with  them  by  the  rest  of  the  world,  and  from  the  affinity  of  the 
two  religions,  apt  to  intermix  the  doctrines  of  both,  it  is  not 
to  be  wondered  at  that  a  tenet  so  flattering  to  the  self-impor- 
tance of  those  who  embraced  it,  should  have  been  commutiica- 
ted  to  the  new  institution.  Again  the  teachers  of  Christianity, 
amongst  the  privileges  which  their  religion  conferred  upon  its 
professors,  were  wont  to  extol  the  '■'■liberty  into  which  they  were 
"called," — "in  which  Christ  had  made  them  ir^e^  This 
liberty,  which  was  intended  of  a  deliverance  from  the  various 
servitude,  in  which  they  had  heretofore  lived,  to  the  don^iina- 


320  OF  CIVIL  OBEDIENCt. 

tion  of  sinful  passions,  to  the  superstition  of  the  Gentile  idola- 
try, or  the  encumbered  ritual  of  the  Jewish  dispensation,  might 
by  some  be  interpreted  to  signify  an  emancipation  from  all  re- 
straint which  was  imposed  by  an  authority  merely  human.  At 
least,  they  might  be  represented  by  their  enemies  as  maintaining 
notions  of  this  dangerous  tendency.  To  some  error  or  calumny 
of  this  kind,  the  words  of  St.  Peter,  seem  to  allude  : — "  For  so 
"  is  the  will  of  God,  that  with  well  doing  ye  may  put  to  silence 
"the  ignorance  of  foolish  men  :  as  free,  and  not  using  your  lib- 
"  erty  for  a  clock  of  maliciousness  (i.  e.  sedition,)  but  as  the 
"  servants  of  God."  •  After  all,  if  any  one  think  this  conjecture 
too  feebly  supported  by  testimony  to  be  relied  upon  in  the 
interpretation  of  Scripture,  he  will  then  revert  to  the  considera- 
tions alledged  in  the  preceding  part  of  this  chapter. 

After  so  copious  an  account  of  what  we  apprehend  to  be  the 
general  design  and  doctrine  of  these  much  agitated  passages, 
little  need  be  added  in  explanation  of  particular  clauses.  St. 
Paul  has  said,  "  Whosoever  resisteth  the  power,  resisteth  the 
*' ordinance  of  God."  This  phrase,  "the  ordinance  of  God," 
is  by  many  so  interpreted  as  to  authorize  the  most  exalted  and 
superstitious  ideas  of  the  regal  character.  But  surely  such  in- 
terpreters have  sacrificed  truth  to  adulation.  For  in  the  first 
place,  the  expression,  as  used  by  St.  Paul,  is  just  as  applicable 
to  one  kind  of  government,  and  to  one  kind  of  succession, 
as  to  another; — to  the  elective  magistrates  of  a  pure  republic, 
as  to  an  absolute  hereditary  monarch.  In  (he  next  place,  it  i- 
not  affirmed  of  the  supreme  magistrate  exclusively,  that  he  is 
the  ordinance  of  God  ;  the  title,  whatever  it  imports,  belongs  to 
every  inferior  officer  of  the  state  as  much  as  to  the  highest. 
The  divine  right  oi kings  is,  like  the  divine  right  of  constables, 
— the  law  of  the  land,  or  even  actual  and  (juiet  possession  of 
their  office  ; — a  right  ratified,  we  humbly  presume,  by  the 
divine  approbation,  so  long  as  obedience  to  their  authority  ap 
pears  to  be  necessary  or  conducive  to  the  common  welfare. 
Princes  are  ordained  of  God  by  virtue  only  of  that  general   dc- 


CIVIL  LIBERTY.  321 

ctee,  by  which  he  assents  and  adds  the  sanction  of  his  will  to 
every  law  of  society  which  promotes  his  own  purpose,  the  com- 
munication of  human  happiness  ;  according  to  which  idea  of 
their  origin  and  constitution  (arid  without  any  repugnancy  to  the 
words  of  St.  Paul,)  they  are  by  St.  Peter  denominated  the  or- 
dinance oi  man. 


CHAPTER  V* 

OF  CIVIL  LIBERTY, 

Civil  liberty  is  the  not  being  restrained  by  any  law,  bxit  what 
conduces  in  a  greater  degree  to  the  public  welfare. 

To  do  what  we  'vill,  is  natural  liberty  ;  to  do  what  we  will, 
fconsistently  with  the  interest  of  the  community  to  which  we  be- 
Ibng,  is  civil  liberty  ;  that  is  to  say,  the  Only  liberty  to  be  de- 
sired in  a  state  of  civil  society. 

1  should  wish,  no  doubt,  to  be  allowed  to  act  in  every  instance 
as  I  pleased,  but  I  refiect  that  the  rest  also  of  mankind  would 
then  do  the  same  ;  in  which  state  of  universal  independence  and 
self-direction,  I  should  meet  with  so  many  checks  and  obstacles 
to  my  own  will,  fi'om  the  interference  and  opposition  of  other 
men's,  that  not  only  my  happiness,  but  my  liberty,  would 
be  less,  than  whilst  the  whole  community  were  subjected. to  the 
dominion  of  equal  laws. 

The  boasted  liberty  of  a  state  of  nature  exists  only  id  a  state 
of  solitude.  In  every  kind  and  degree  of  union  and  intercourse 
with  his  species,  the  liberty  of  the  individual  is  augmented  by 
the  very  laws  which  restrain  it  ;  because  he  gains  more  from 
the  limitation  of  other  men's  freedom  than  he  suffers  by  the  dimi- 
nution of  his  own.  Natural  liberty  is  the  right  of  common  up- 
on a  waste  ;  civil  liberty  is  the  safe,  exclusive,  unmolested  en- 
joyment of  a  cultivated  inclosure. 
41 


322  CIVIL  LIBERTY. 

The  definition  of  civil  liberty  above  laid  down  imports,  that 
the  laws  of  a  free  people  impose  no  restraints  upon  the  private 
will  of  the  subject,  which  do  not  conduce  in  a  greater  degree  to 
the  piiblic  happiness  ;  by  which  it  is  intimated,  1st,  That  re- 
straint itself  is  an  evil ;  2d/7/,  That  this  evil  ought  to  be  over- 
balanced by  some  public  advantage  ;  3tlly,  That  the  proof  of 
this  advantage  lies  upon  the  legislature  ;  4thly,  That  a  law  be- 
ing found  to  produce  no  sensible  good  efifects,  is  a  sufficient 
reason  for  repealing  it,  as  adverse  and  injurious  to  the  rights  of 
a  free  citizen,  without  demanding  specific  evidence  of  its  bad 
cflfects.  This  maxim  might  be  remembered  with  advantage  in 
a  revision  of  many  laws  of  this  country  ;  especially  of  the  game 
laws  ;  of  the  poor  laws,  so  far  as  they  lay  restrictions  upon  the 
poor  themselves  ;  of  the  laws  against  Papists  and  Dissenters; 
and,  amongst  a  people  enamoured  to  excess  and  jealous  of  their 
liberty,  it  seems  a  matter  of  surprise,  that  this  principle  has 
been  so  imperfectly  attended  to. 

The  degree  of  actual  liberty  always  bearing,  according  t& 
this  account  of  it,  a  reversed  proportion  to  the  number  and  se- 
verity of  the  restrictions  which  are  either  useless,  or  the  utility 
of  which  does  not  outweigh  the  evil  of  the  restraint,  it  lollows, 
that  every  nation  possesses  some,  no  nation  perfect  liberty  ;  that 
this  liberty  may  be  enjoyed  under  every  form  of  government: 
that  it  may  be  impaired  indeed,  or  increased,  but  that  it  is 
neither  gained,  nor  lost,  nor  recovered,  by  any  single  regula- 
tion, change  or  event  whatever  :  that,  consequently,  those  pop- 
ular phrases  which  speak  of  a  free  people  ;  of  a  nation  of  slaves ; 
which  call  one  revolution  the  era  of  liberty,  or  another  the  loss 
of  it ;  with  many  expressions  of  a  like  absolute  form,  are  intel- 
ligible only  in  a  comparative  sense. 

Hence  also  we  are  enabled  to  apprehend  the  distinction  be- 
tween personal  and  civil  liberty.  A  citizen  of  the  freest  repub- 
lic in  the  world  may  be  imprisoned  for  his  crimes  ;  and  though 
his  personal  freedom  be  restrained  by  bolts  and  fetters,  so  long 
as  bis  confinement  is  the  efiect  of  a  beneficial  public  law,  his  civil 


CIVIL  LIBERTY.  323 

liberty  is  not  invaded.  If  this  instance  appear  dubious,  the 
following  will  be  plainer.  A  passenger  from  the  Levant,  who 
upon  his  return  to  England,  should  be  conveyed  to  a  Lazaretto 
by  an  order  of  quarantine,  with  whatever  impatience  he  might 
desire  his  enlargement,  and  though  he  saw  a  guard  placed  at 
the  door  to  oppose  his  escape,  or  even  ready  to  destroy  his  life 
if  he  attempted  it,  would  hardly  accuse  government  of  encroach- 
ing upon  his  civil  freedom  ;  nay,  might  perhaps  rather  congrat- 
ulate himself,  that  he  had  at  length  set  his  foot  again  in  a  land 
of  liberty.  The  manifest  expediency  of  the  measure  not  only 
justifies  it,  but  reconciles  the  most  odious  confinement  with  the 
perfect  possession  and  the  loftiest  notions  of  civil  liberty.  And 
if  this  be  true  of  the  coercion  of  a  prison,  that  it  is  compatible 
with  a  state  of  civil  freedom,  it  cannot  with  reason  be  disputed 
of  those  more  moderate  constraints  which  the  ordinary  opera- 
tion of  government  imposes  upon  the  will  of  the  individual.  It 
is  not  the  rigor,  but  the  inexpediency  of  laws  and  acts  of  author- 
ity, which  makes  them  tyrannical. 

There  is  another  idea  of  civil  liberty,  which,  though  neither 
so  simple  nor  so  accurate  as  the  former,  agrees  better  with  the 
signification,  which  the  usage  of  common  discourse,  as  well 
as  the  example  of  many  respectable  writers  upon  the  sub- 
ject, has  affixed  to  the  term.  This  idea  places  liberty  id 
security;  making.it  to  consist,  not  merely  in  an  actual  ex- 
emption from  the  constraint  of  useless  and  noxious  laws  and 
acts  of  dominion,  but  in  being  free  from  the  danger  of  having 
any  such  hereafter  imposed  or  exercised.  Thus,  speaking  <?f 
the  political  state  of  modern  Europe,  we  are  accustomed  to  say 
of  Sweden,  that  she  hath  lost  her  liberty  by  the  revolution  vvhicfei 
lately  took  place  in  that  country  ;  and  yet  v/e  are  assured  that 
the  people  continue  to  be  governed  by  the  same  laws  as  before, 
or  by  otliers  which  are  wiser,  milder,  and  more  equitable. 
What  then  have  they  lost  ?  They  have  lost  the  power  and 
functions  of  their  diet ;  the  constitution  of  their  states  and  or- 
4ers,  whose  deliberation  and  concurrence  were  required  in  the 


824  CIVIL  LIBERTY. 

formation  and  establishment  of  every  public  law;  and  thereby 
have  parted  with  the  security  which  they  possessed  against  any 
attempts  of  the  crown  to  harrass  its  subjects,  by  oppressive  and 
useless  exertions  of  prerogative.  The  loss  of  this  security  we 
denominate  the  loss  of  liberty.  They  have  changed,  not  their 
laws,  but  their  legislature  ;  not  their  enjoyment,  but  their  safe- 
ty ;  not  their  present  burthens,  but  their  prospects  of  future 
grievances  ;  and  this  we  pronounce  a  change  from  the  condition 
of  freemen  to  that  of  slave*  In  like  manner,  in  our  own  coun- 
try, the  act  of  Parliament,  in  the  reign  of  Henry  the  Eighth, 
which  gave  to  the  king's  proclamation  the  force  of  law,  has 
properly  been  called  a  complete  and  formal  surrender  of  the  lib- 
erty of  the  nation  ;  and  would  have  been  so,  although  no  procla- 
mation were  issued  in  pursuance  of  these  new  powers,  or  none 
but  what  was  recommended  by  the  highest  wisdom  and  utility. 
The  security  was  gone.  Were  it  probable  that  the  welfare  and 
accommodation  of  the  people  would  be  as  studiously,  and  as 
providently,  consulted  in  the  edicts  of  a  despotic  prince,  as  by 
the  resolutions  of  a  popular  assembly,  then  would  an  absolute 
form  of  government  be  no  less  free  than  the  purest  deroecracy. 
The  different  degree  of  care  and  knowledge  of  the  public  in- 
terest which  may  reasonably  be  expected  from  the  different 
form  and  composition  of  the  legislature,  constitutes  the  distinction, 
in  respect  of  liberty,  as  well  between  these  two  extremes,  as 
between  all  the  intermediate  modifications  of  civil  government. 
The  definitions  which  have  been  framed  of  civil  liberty,  and 
which  have  become  the  subject  of  much  unnecessary  altercation, 
are  most  of  them  adapted  to  this  idea.  Thus  one  political  wri- 
ter makes  the  very  essence  of  the  subject's  liberty  to  consist  in 
his  being  governed  by  no  laws  but  those  to  which  he  hath  actu- 
ally consented  ;  another  is  satisfied  with  an  mdirect  and  virtual 
consent  ;  another,  again,  places  civil  liberty  in  the  separation 
of  the  legislative  and  executive  offices  of  government ;  another,  in 
$he  being  governed  by  law  that  is  by  known,  preconstituted,  in- 
Dpxible  rules  of  action  and  adjudication  ;  a  fifth,  in  the  exclusive 


CIVIL  LIBERTY.  325 

right  oi  the  people  to  tax  themselves  by  their  own  representa.- 
tives  ;  a  sixth,  in  the  freedom  and  purity  of  elections  of  reprcr 
sentatives  ;  a  seventh,  in  the  control  which  the  democratic 
part  of  the  constitution  possesses  over  the  military  establisment. 
Concerning  which,  and  some  other  similar  accounts  of  civjl  lib- 
erty, it  may  be  observed,  that  they  all  labour  under  one  inac- 
curacy, viz.  that  they  describe  not  so  much  liberty  itself,  as 
the  safeguards  and  preservatives  of  liberty  :  for  example,  a  man's 
being  governed  by  no  laws,  but  those  to  which  he  has  given  his 
tonsent,  were  it  pi-acticable,  is  no  otherwise  necessary  to  the 
enjoyment  of  civil  liberty,  than  as  it  affords  a  probable  security 
against  the  dictation  of  laws,  imposing  superfluous  restrictions 
upon  his  private  will.  This  remark  is  applicable  to  the  rest. 
The  diversity  of  these  definitions  will  not  surprise  us,  when  we 
consider  that  there  is  no  contrariety  or  opposition  amongst  them 
whatever  ;  for  by  how  many  different  provisions  and  precautions 
civil  liberty  is  fenced  and  protected^  so  many  different  accounts 
of  liberty  itself,  all  sufficiently  consistent  with  truth  and  with 
each  other,  may,  according  to  this  mode  of  explaining  the  term, 
be  framed  and  adopted. 

Truth  cannot  be  offended  by  a  definition,  but  propriety  may. 
In  which  view,  those  definitions  of  liberty  ought  to  be  re- 
jected, which,  by  making  that  essential  to  civil  freedom  which 
is  unattainable  in  experience,  inflame  expectations  that  can  nev- 
er be  gratified,  and  disturb  the  public  content  with  complaints, 
which  no  wisdom  or  benevolence  of  gov.ernment  can  remove. 

It  will  not  be  thought  extraordinary,  that  an  idea,  which  oc- 
curs so  much  oftener  as  the  subject  of  panegyric  and  careless 
declamation,  than  of  just  reasoning  or  correct  knowledge,  shoulii 
be  attended  with  uncertainty  and  confusion  :  or  that  it  should 
be  found  impossible  to  contrive  a  definition,  which  may  includa 
the  numerous,  unsettled,  and  ever  varying  significations,  whicl^ 
the  term  is  made  to  stand  for,  and  at  the  same  time  accord  with 
ihe  condition  and  experience  of  social  life. 

Of  the  two  ideas  that  have  been  stated  of  civil  liberty,  whiclj-. 


326  OF  GOVERNMENT. 

ever  we  assume,  and  whatever  reasoning  we  found  upon  ihetn 
concerning  its  extent,  nature,  value,  and  preservation,  this  is  the 
conclusion  ; — that  that  people,  government,  and  constitution,  is 
the  freest,  which  makes  the  best  provision  for  the  enacting  of  ex- 
pedient and  salutary  laws. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OF  DIFFERENT  FORMS  OF  GOVERNMENT. 

AS  a  series  of  appeals  must  be  finite,  there  necessarily  ex- 
ists in  every  government  a  power  from  which  the  constitution 
has  provided  no  appeal  ;  and  which  power,  for  that  reason,  may 
be  termed  absolute,  omnipotent,  uncontrollable,  arbitrary,  des- 
potic ;  and  is  alike  so  in  all  countries. 

The  person  or  assembly  in  whom  this  power  resides  is  called 
the  sovereign,  or  the  supreme  power  of  the  state. 

Since  to  the  same  power  universally  appertains  the  office  of  es- 
tablishing public  laws,  it  is  called  also  the  legislature  of  the  state. 

A  government  receives  its  denomination  from  the  form  of  the 
legislature  ;  which  form  is  likewise  what  we  commonly  mean 
by  the  constitution  of  a  country. 

Political  writers  enumerate  three  principal  forms  of  govern- 
ment, which,  however,  are  to  be  regarded  rather  as  the  simple 
forms,  by  some  combination  and  intermixture  of  which  all  actu- 
al governments  are  composed,  than  as  any  where  existing  in  a 
pure  and  elementary  state.     These  forms  are, — 

I.  Despotism,  or  absolute  monarchy,  where  the  legislature  is 
in  a  single  person. 

II.  An  ARISTOCRACY,  wherc  the  legislature  is  in  a  select  as- 
sembly, the  members  of  which  either  fill  up  by  election  the  va- 
cancies in  their  own  body,  or  succeed  to  their  places  in  it  by 
inheritance,  property,  tenure  of  certain  lands,  or  in  respect  of 
some  personal  right  or  qualification. 


OF  GOVERNMENT.  327 

ril.  A  REPUBLIC,  or  democracy,  where  the  people  at  large, 
either  collectively  or  by  representation,  constitute  the  legislature. 

The  separate  advantages  of  monarchy  are, — unity  of  council, 
activity,  decision,  secrecy,  despatch  ;  the  military  strength  and 
energy  which  result  from  these  qualities  of  government ;  the  ex- 
clusion of  popular  and  aristocratical  contentions  ;  the  prevent, 
ing,  by  a  known  rule  of  succession,  of  all  competition  for  the 
supreme  power  ;  and  thereby  repressing  the  hopes,  intrigues, 
and  dangerous  ambition  of  aspiring  citizens. 

The  mischiefs,  or  rather  the  dangers,  of  monarchy  are,— tyran- 
ny, expense,  exaction,  military  domination  ;  unnecessary  wars, 
waged  to  gratify  the  passions  of  an  individual  ;  risk  of  the  char- 
acter of  the  reigning  prince  ;  ignorance  in  the  governors,  of  the 
interests  and  accommodation  of  the  people,  and  a  consequent 
deficiency  of  salutary  regulations  ;  want  of  constancy  and  uni- 
formity in  the  rules  of  government,  and,  proceeding  from  thence, 
insecurity  of  person  and  property. 

The  separate  advantage  of  an  aristocracy  consists  in  the 
wisdom  which  may  be  expected  from  experience  and  education  : 
— a  permanent  council  naturally  possesses  experience  ;  and  the. 
members  who  succeed  to  their  places  in.  it  by  inheritance,  wil! 
probably  be  trained  and  educated  with  a  view  to  the  stations 
which  they  are  destined  by  their  birth  to  occupy. 

The  mischiefs  of  an  aristocracy  are, — dissensions  in  the  ru- 
ling orders  of  the  state,  which,  from  the  want  of  a  common  su- 
perior are  liable  to  proceed  to  the  most  desperate  extremities  ; 
oppression  of  the  lower  orders  by  the  privileges  of  the  higher, 
and  by  laws  partial  to  the  separate  interest  of  the  law-makers. 

The  advantages  of  a  republic  are, — liberty,  or  exemption 
from  needless  restrictions  ;  equal  laws  ;  regulations  adapted  to 
the  wants  and  circumstances  of  the  people  ;  public  spirit,  frugal- 
ity, averseness  to  war ;  the  opportunities  which  democratic  as- 
semblies afford  to  men  of  every  description,  of  producing'their 
abilities  and  counsels  to  public  observation,  and  the  exciting 
thereby,  and  calling  forth  to  the  service  of  the  commonwealth, 
the  faculties  of  its  best  citizens. 


«28  OF  GOVERNMENT. 

The  evils  of  a  republic  are, — dissensions,  tumults,  faction  ,• 
the  attempts  of  powerful  citizens  to  possess  themselves  of  the 
empire  ;  the  confusion,  rage,  and  clamour,  vphich  are  the  inevi- 
table consequences  of  assembling  multitudes,  and  of  propounding 
questions  of  state  to  the  discussion  of  the  people  ;  the  delay  and 
disclosure  of  public  counsels  and  designs  ;  and  the  imbecility  of 
measures  retarded  by  the  necessity  of  obtaining  the  consent  of 
members  :  lastly,  the  oppression  of  the  provinces  which  are  not 
admitted  to  participation  in  the  legislative  power. 

A  mixed  government  is  composed  by  the  combination  of  two 
or  more  of  the  simple  forms  of  government  above  described  ; — 
and  in  whatever  proportion  each  form  enters  into  the  constitution 
of  a  government,  in  the  same  proportion  may  both  the  advanta- 
ges and  evils,  which  we  have  attributed  to  that  form,  be  expect- 
ed  ;  that  is,  those  are  the  uses  to  be  maintained  and  cultivated 
in  each  part  of  the  constitution,  and  these  are  the  dangers  to  be 
provided  against  in  each.     Thus,  if  secrecy  and  despatch  be 
truly  enumerated  amongst  the  seperate  excellencies  of  regal  go- 
vernment, then  a  mixed  government,  which  retains  monarchy  in 
one  part  of  its  constitution,  should  be  careful  that  the  other  es- 
tates of  the  empire  do  not,  by  an  officious  and  inquisitive  inter- 
ference with  the  executive  functions,  which  are,  or  ought  to  be, 
reserved  to  the  administration  of  the  prince,   interpose  delays, 
or  divulge  what  it  is  expedient  to  conceal.     On  the  other  hand, 
if  profusion,  exaction,  military  domination,  and  needless  wars, 
be  justly  accounted  natural  properties  of  a  monarchy,  in  its  sim- 
ple unqualified  form  ;  then  are  these  the  objects  to  which,  in  a 
mixed  government,  the  aristocratic  and  popular  parts  of  the  con- 
stitution ought  to  direct  their  vigilance  ;     the  dangers  against 
which  they  should  raise  and  fortify  their  barriers  ;  these  are  de- 
partments of  sovereignty,  over  which  a  [)Ower  of  inspection  and 
control  ought  to  be  deposited  with  the  people. 

The  same  observation  may  be  repeated  of  all  the  other  advan- 
tages and  inconveniences  which  have  been  ascribed  to  the  seve- 
ral simple  forms  of  government,  and  affords  a  rule  whereby  t<? 


OF  GOVERNMENT.     .  329 

'iirect  the  construction,  improvement,  and  administration  of  mix- 
ed governments, — subjected,  however,  to  this  remark,  that  a 
quality  sometimes  results  from  the  conjunction  of  two  simple 
forms  of  government,  which  belongs  not  to  the  separate  existence 
of  either  ;  thus  corruption,  which  has  no  place  in  an  absolute 
monarchy,  and  little  in  a  pure  republic,  is  sure  to  gain  admission 
into  a  constitution  which  divides  the  supreme  power  between  an 
executive  magistrate  and  a  popular  council. 

An  hereditary  monarchy  is  universally  to  be  preferred  to  an 
elective  monarchy.  The  confession  of  every  writer  upon  the 
subject  of  civil  government,  the  experience  of  ages,  the  example 
of  Poland,  and  of  the  Papal  dominions,  seem  to  place  this  amongst 
the  few  indubitable  maxims  which  the  science  of  >iolitics  admits 
of.  A  crown  is  too  splendid  a  prize  to  be  conferred  upon  merit ; 
the  passions  or  interests  of  the  electors  exclude  all  consideration 
of  the  qualities  of  the  competitors.  The  same  observation  holds 
concerning  Ihe  appointment  to  any  office  which  is  attended  with 
a  great  share  of  power  or  emolument.  Nothing  is  gained  by  a 
popular  choice  worth  the  dissensions,  tumults,  and  interruption 
of  regular  industry,  with  which  it  is  inseparably  attended.  Add 
to  this,  that  a  king  who  owes  his  elevation  to  the  event  of  a  con- 
test, or  to  any  other  cause  than  a  fixed  rule  of  succession,  will 
be  apt  to  regard  one  part  of  his  subjects  as  the  associates  of 
his  fortune,  and  the  other  as  conquered  foes.  Nor  should  it  be 
forgotten,  amongst  the  advantages  of  an  hereditary  monarchy, 
that,  as  plans  of  national  improvement  and  reform  are  seldom 
broiight  to  maturity  by  the  exertions  of  a  single  reign,  a  nation 
cannot  attain  to ''the  degree  of  happiness  and  prosperity  to  which 
it  is  capable  of  being  carried,  unless  an  uniformity  of  counsels, 
a  consistency  of  public  measures  and  designs,  be  continued 
through  a  succession  of  ages.  This  benefit  of  a  consistent  scheme 
of  government  may  be  expected  with  greater  probability  where 
the  supreme  power  descends  in  the  same  race,  and  where  each 
prince  succeeds,  in  some  sort,  to  the  aim,  pursuits,  and  disposi- 
tion of  his  ancestor,  than  if  the  crown,  at  every  change,  devolve 
42 


330  OF  GOVERx\M£NT. 

upon  a  stranger,  nliose  first  care  will  commonly  be  to  pull  doVtr* 
what  his  predecessor  had  built  up,  and  to  substitute  systems  of 
adminiitralion  which  must,  in  their  turn,  give  way  to  the  more 
favourite  novelties  of  the  next  successor. 

Aristocracies  are  of  two  kinds. — First,  Where  the  power  of 
the  noLility  belongs  to  them  in  their  collective  capacity  alone  : 
that  is,  where,  although  the  government  reside  in  an  assembly 
of  the  order,  yet  the  members  of  that  assembly  separately  and 
individually  possess  no  authority  or  privilege  beyond  the  rest  ot' 
the  community  : — this  describes  the  constitution  of  Venice.  «S'ec- 
ondlij^  Where  the  nobles  are._5everally  invested  with  great  per- 
sonal power  and  immunities,  and  where  the  power  of  the  senate 
is  little  more  than  the  aggregated  power  of  the  individuals  who 
compose  it  : — this  is  the  constitution  of  Poland,  Of  these  twa 
forms  of  government,  the  first  is  more  tolerable  than  the  last  ; 
for,  although  ttie  members  of  a  senate  should  many,  or  even  all 
of  them,  be  profligate  enough  to  abuse  the  authority  of  their  sta- 
tions in  the  prosecution  of  private  designs,  yet,  not  being  all  un- 
der a  temptation  to  the  same  injustice,  not  having  all  the  same 
end  to  gain^  it  would  still  be  difficult  to  obtain  the  consent  of  a 
majority  to  any  specific  act  of  oppression  which  the  iniquity  of 
an  individual  might  prompt  him  to  propose  :  or,  if  the  will  were 
the  same,  the  power  is  more  confined  ;  one  tyrant,  whether  the 
tyranny  reside  in  a  single  person  or  a  s«nate,  cannot  exercise 
oppression  at  so  many  places  at  the  same  time,  as  it  may  be 
carried  on  by  the  dominion  of  a  numerous  nobility  over  their 
respective  vassals  and  dependents.  Of  all  species  of  domina- 
tion, this  is  the  most  odious  ;  the  freedom  and  satisfaction  of 
private  life  are  more  constrained  and  harassed  by  it  than  by  the 
most  vexatious  laws,  or  even  by  the  lawless  will  of  an  arbitrary 
monarch,  from  whose  knovvledg£,  and  from  whose  injustice,  the 
greatest  part  of  his  subjects  are  removed  by  their  distance,  or 
concealed  by  their  obscurity. 

Europe  exhibits  more  than  one  modern  example,  where  the 
people,  aggrieved  by  the  exactions,  or  provoked  by  the  enormi- 


OF  GOVERNMENT.  331 

ties,  of  their  immediate  superiors,  have  joined  with  the  reigning 
prince  in  the  overthrow  of  the  aristocracy,  deliberately  exchan- 
ging their  condition  for  the  miseries  of  despotism.  About  the 
middle  of  the  last  century,  the  commons  of  Denmark,  weary  of 
the  oppressions  which  they  had  long  suffered  from  the  Jiobles, 
and  exasperated  by  some  recent  insults,  presented  themselves  at 
the  foot  of  the  throne  with  a  formal  offer  of  their  consent  to  es- 
tablish unlimited  dominion  in  the  king.  The  revolution  in  Swe- 
den, still  more  latelj^  brought  about  with  the  acquiescence,  not 
to  say  the  assistance,  of  the  people,  owed  its  success  to  the  same 
cause,  namely,  to  the  prospect  of  deliverance  that  it  afforded  from 
the  tyranny  which  their  nobles  exorcised  under  the  old  constitu- 
tion. In  England,  the  people  beheld  the  depression  of  the  bar- 
ons, under  the  house  of  Tudor,  with  satisfaction,  although  they 
saw  the  crown  ascending  thereby  to  a  height  of  power  which  no 
limitations  that  the  constitution  had  then  p>rovided  were  likely 
to  confine*  The  lesson  to  be  drawn  from  such  events  is  this, 
that  a  mixed  government,  which  admits  a  patrician  order  into  its 
constitution,  ought  to  circumscribe  the  personal  privileges  of  the 
nobility,  especially  claims  of  hereditary  jurisdiction  and  local 
authority,  with  a  jealousy  equal  to  the  solicitude  with  which  it 
-provides  for  its  own  preservation  ;  for,  nothing  so  alienates  the 
minds  of  the  people  from  the  government  under  which  they  live, 
by  a  perpetual  sense  of  annoyance  and  inconveniency,  or  so  pre- 
pares them  for  the  practices  of  an  enterprising  prince  or  a  fac- 
tious demagogue,  as  the  abuse  which  almost  always  accompanies 
the  existence  of  separate  immunities. 

Amongst  the  inferior,  but  by  no  means  inconsiderable  advan- 
tages of  a  DEMOCRATIC  Constitution,  or  of  a  constitution  in  which 
the  people  partake  of  the  power  of  legislation,  the  following 
should  not  be  neglected  : — 

I,  The  direction  which  it  gives  to  the  education,  studies,  and 
pursuits  of  the  superior  orders  of  the  community.  The  share 
which  this  has  iii  forming  the  public  manners  and  national  char- 
acter, is  very  important.     In  countries  in  which  the  gentry  axe 


332  OF  GOVERNMENT. 

excluded  from  all  concern  in  the  government,  scaiceJy  any  thing 
is  left  which  leads  to  advancement,  but  the  profession  of  arms. 
They  who  do  not  addict  themselves  to  this  profession  (and  misera- 
ble must  that  country  be,  which  constantly  employs  the  military 
service  of  a  great  proportion  of  any  order  of  its  subjects  !)  are 
commonly  lost  by  the  mere  want  of  object  and  destination  ;  that 
is,  they  fall,  without  reserve,  into  the  most  sottish  habits  of  ani- 
mal gratification,  or  entirely  devote  themselves  to  the  attainment 
of  those  futile  arts  and  decorations  which  compose  the  business 
and  recommendation  of  a  court  :  on  the  other  band,  where  the 
whole,  or  any  effective  portion  of  civil  power  is  possessed  by  a 
popular  assembly,  more  serious  pursuits  will  be  encouraged  , 
purer  morals,  and  a  more  intellectual  character,  will  engage  the 
public  esteem  ;  those  faculties  which  qualify  men  for  delibera" 
tion  and  debate,  and  which  are  the  fruit  of  sober  habits,  of  early 
and  long-continued  application,  will  be  roused  and  animated  by 
the  reward,  which,  of  all  others,  most  readily  awakens  the  ambi- 
tion of  the  human  mind — political  dignity  and  importance. 

II.  Popular  elections  procure  to  the  common  people  courtesy 
from  their  superiors.  That  contemptuous  and  overbearing  insor 
lence,  with  which  the  lower  orders  of  the  community  are  wont 
to  be  treated  by  the  higher,  is  greatly  mitigated  where  the  peo- 
ple have  something  to  give.  The  assiduity  with  which  their  fa- 
vour is  sought  upon  these  occasions,  serves  to  generate  settled 
habits  of  condescension  and  respect ;  and  as  human  life  is  more 
embittered  by  affronts  than  injuries,  whatever  contributes  to  pro- 
cure mildness  and  civility  of  manners  towards  those  who  are 
most  liable  to  suffer  from  a  contrary  behaviour,  corrects  with  the 
pride,  in  a  great  measure,  the  evil  of  inequality,  and  deserves  to 
be  accounted  amongst  the  most  generous  institutions  of  social 
life. 

in.  The  satisfaction  which  the  people  in  tree  governments 
derive  from  the  knowledge  and  agitation  of  political  subjects  5 
such  as  the  proceedings  and  debates  of  the  senate  ;  the  conduct 
and  character  of  ministers ;  the  revolutions,  intrigues,  and  conr 


OF  GOVERNMENT.  333 

tentions  of  parties  ;  and,  in  general,  from  the  discussion  of  pub- 
lic measures;  questions,  and  occurrences.  Subjects  of  this  sort 
excite  just  enough  of  interest  and  emotion  to  afford  a  moderate 
engagement  to  the  thoughts,  witliout  rising  to  any  painful  de- 
gree of  anxiety,  or  ever  leaving  a  fixed  oppression  upon  the 
spirits  :' — and  what  is  this,  but  the  aim  and  end  of  all  those 
amusements,  which  compose  so  much  of  the  business  of  life  and 
of  the  value  of  riches  ?  For  my  part  (and  I  believe  it  to  be  the 
case  with  most  men  who  are  arrived  at  the  middle  age,  and  oc- 
cupy the  middle  classes  of  life,)  had  I  all  the  money  which  I 
pay  in  taxes  to  government,  at  liberty  to  lay  out  upon  amuse- 
ment and  diversion,  I  know  not  whether  I  could  make  choice 
of  any  in  which  I  should  find  greater  pleasure  than  what  1 
receive  from  expecting,  hearing,  and  relating  public  news  ; 
reading  parliamentary  debates  and  proceedings  ;  canvass- 
ing the  political  arguments,  projects,  predictions,  and  intelli- 
gence, which  are  conveyed,  by  various  channels,  to  every  cor- 
ner of  the  kingdom.  These  topics,  exciting  universal  curiosity, 
and  being  such  as  almost  every  man  is  ready  to  form  and  pre- 
pared to  deliver  an  opinion  about,  greatly  promote,  and,  1  think, 
improve  conversation.  They  render  it  more  rational  and  more 
innocent ;  they  supply  a  substitute  for  drinking,  gaming,  Scan- 
dal, and  obscenity.  Now,  the  secrecy,  the  jealousy,  the  soli- 
tude, and  precipitation  of  despotic  governments,  exclude  all 
this.  But  the  loss,  you  say,  is  trifling.  I  know  that  it  is  possi- 
ble to  render  even  the  mention  of  it  ridiculous,  by  representing 
it  as  the  idle  employment  of  the  most  insignificant  part  of  the 
nation,  the  folly  of  village-statesmen  and  coffee-house  politi- 
cians :  but  I  allow  nothing  to  be  a  trifle  which  aiinisters  to  the 
harmless  gratification  of  multitudes  ;  nor  any  order  of  men  to 
be  insignificant,  Avhose  number  bears  a  respectable  proportion 
to  the  sum  of  the  v^'hole  community. 

We  have  been  accustomed  to  an  opinion,  that  a  republican 
form  of  government  suits  only  with  the  affairs  of  a  small  state  ; 
which  opinion  is  founded  in  tlie  consideration,   that  unless  the 


334  OF  GOVERNMENT. 

people,  in  every  district  of  the  empire,  be  admitted  to  a  share 
in  the  national  representation,  the  government  is  not,  as  tothctn, 
a  republic  ;  that  elections,  where  the  constituents  are  numerous, 
and  dispersed  through  a  wide  extent  of  country,  are  conducted 
with  difliculty,  or  rather,  indeed,  managed  by  the  intrigues  and 
combination  of  a  few,  who  are  situated  near  the  place  of  elec- 
tion, each  voter  considering  his  single  suffrage  as  too  minute  a 
portion  of  the  general  interest  to  deserve  his  career  attendance, 
much  less  to  be  worth  any  opposilipn  to  influence  and  applica- 
tion ;  that  whilst  we  contract  the  representation  within  a  com- 
pass small  enough  to  admit  of  orderly  debate,  the  interest  of 
the  constituent  becomes  too  small,  of  the  representative  too  great. 
It  is  difficult  also  to  maintain  any  connexion  between  them.  He 
who  represents  two  hundred  thousand,  is  necessarily  a  stranger 
to  the  greatest  part  of  those  who  elect  him  ;  and  when  his  inter- 
est amongst  them  ceases  to  depend  upon  an  acquaintance  with 
their  persons  and  character,  or  a  care  and  knowledge  of  their 
affairs  ;  when  such  a  representative  finds  the  treasures  and  hon- 
©urs  of  a  great  empire  at  the  disposal  of  a  few,  and  himself  one 
of  the  (ew,  there  is  little  reason  to  hope  that  lie  will  not  prefer 
to  his  public  duty  those  temptations  of  personal  agrandizement 
which  his  situation  offers,  and  which  (he  price  of  his  vote  will 
always  purchase.  All  appeal  to  the  people  is  precluded  by  the 
impossibility  of  collecting  a  sufficient  proportion  of  their  force 
and  numbers.  The  factions  and  the  unanimity  of  the  senate 
are  equally  dangerous.  Add  to  these  considerations,  that  in  a 
democratic  constitution  the  mechanism  is  too  complicated,  and 
the  motions  too  slow,  for  the  operations  of  a  great  empire  ; 
whose  defence  and  government  require  execution  and  despatch, 
in  proportion  to  the  magnitude,  extent,  and  variety  of  its  inter- 
ests and  concerns.  There  is  weight,  no  doubt,  in  these  reasons  ; 
but  much  of  the  objection  seems  to  be  done  away  by  the  con- 
trivance of  a  federal  republic,  which,  distributing  the  country 
into  districts  of  a  commodious  extent,  and  leaving  to  each  dis- 
irlci  its  internal  legislation,  reserves  to  a  convention  of  the  states 


THE  BRITISH  CONSTITUTION.  335 

the  adjustment  of  their  relative  claims  ;  the  levying,  direction, 
and  government  of  the  common  force  of  the  confederacy  ;  tho 
requisition  of  subsidies  for  the  support  of  this  force;  the  making 
of  peace  and  war  ;  the  entering  into  treaties  ;  the  regulation  of 
foreign  commerce  ;  the  equalization  of  duties  upon  imports,  so  as 
to  prevent  the  defrauding  of  the  revenue  of  one  province  by 
smuggling  articles  of  taxation  from  the  bordei's  of  another  ;  and 
likewise,  so  as  to  guard  against  undue  partialities  in  the  encour- 
agement of  trade.  To  what  limits  such  a  republic  might,  with- 
out inconveniency,  enlarge  its  dominions,  by  assuming  neigh- 
bouring provinces  into  the  confederation  ;  or  how  far  it  is  capa- 
ble of  uniting  the  liberty  of  a  small  commonwealth  with  the 
safety  of  a  powerful  empire  ;  or  whether,  amongst  co-ordinate 
powers,  dissensions  and  jealousies  would  not  be  likely  to  arise, 
which,  for  want  of  a  common  superior,  might  proceed  to  fatal 
extremities,  are  questions,  upon  which  the  records  of  mankind 
do  not  authorize  us  to  decide  with  tolerable  certainty.  The 
experiment  is  about  to  be  tried  in  America  upon  a  large  scale. 


CHAPTER  ¥!!• 

OF  THE  BRITISH  CONSTITUTION. 

BY  the  CONSTiTUTroN  of  a  country,  is  meant  so  much  of  its 
law,  as  relates  to  the  designation  and  form  of  the  legislature  ; 
the  rights  and  functions  of  the  several  parts  of  the  legislative 
body  ;  the  construction,  office,  and  jurisdiction  of  courts  of  jus- 
tice. The  constitution  is  one  principal  division,  section,  or  title, 
of  the  code  of  public  laws  ;  distinguished  from  the  rest  only  by 
the  superior  importance  of  the  subject  of  which  it  treats. 
Therefore  the  terms  constitutional  and  xmconstitutional,  mean 
legal  and  illegal.  The  distinction  and  ideas  which  these  terms 
denote,  are  founded  in  the  same  authority  with  the  law  of  the 


330  THE  BRITrSH  COXSTITUTION. 

land  upon  any  other  subject ;  nnd  to  be  ascertained  by  the  satrifi 
inquiries.  In  England,  the  system  of  public  jurisprudence  isi 
made  up  of  acts  of  parliament,  of  decisions  of  courts  of  law,  and 
of  immemorial  usages  :  consequently,  these  are  the  principles 
ol  ^A^iich  the  English  constitution  itself  consists,  the  sources  from 
which  all  our  knowledge  of  its  nature  and  limitations  is  tobe  de- 
duced, and  the  authorities  to  which  all  appeal  ought  to  be  made, 
and  by  which  every  constitutional  doubt  and  question  can  alone 
be  decided.  This  plain  and  intelligible  definition  is  the  more 
necessary  to  be  preserved  in  our  thoughts,  as  some  writers  upon 
the  subject  absurdly  confound  what  is  constitutional  with  what 
is  expedient ;  pronouncing  forthwith  a  measure  to  be  unconsti- 
tutional, which  they  adjudge  in  any  respect  to  be  detrimental 
or  dangerous  ;  whilst  others,  again,  ascribe  a  kind  of  transcend- 
ent authority,  or  mysterious  sanctity,  to  the  constitution,  as  if  it 
were  founded  on  some  higher  original  than  that  which  gives 
force  and  obligation  to  the  ordinary  laws  and  statutes  of  the 
realm,  or  were  inviolable  on  any  other  account  than  its  in- 
trinsic utility.  An  act  of  parliament  in  England  can  never 
be  unconstitutional,  in  the  strict  and  proper  acceptation  of  the 
term  ;  in  a  lower  sense  it  may,  viz.  when  it  ipilitates  with  the 
spirit,  contradicts  the  analogy,  or  defeats  the  provision  of  other 
laws,  made  to  regulate  the  form  of  government.  Even  that 
flagitious  abuse  of  tlitir  trust,  by  which  a  parliament  of  Henry 
the  Eighth  conferred  upon  the  king's  proclamation  the  authority 
of  law,  was  unconstitutional  only  in  this  latter  sense. 

Most  of  those  who  treat  of  tiie  British  constitution,  consider  it 
as  a  scheme  of  government  formally  planned  and  contrived  by 
our  ancestors,  in  some  certain  aera  of  our  national  history,  and 
as  set  up  in  pursuance  of  such  regular  plan  and  design.  Some- 
thing of  this  sort  is  secretly  supposed,  or  referred  to,  in  the 
expressions  of  those  who  speak  of  the  "  principles  of  the  con- 
stitution," of  bringing  back  the  constitution  to  its  "  first  princi- 
ples," of  restoring  it  to  its  "  original  purity,"  or  "primitive 
"  model."     Now,  this  appears  to  me  an  erroneous  conception  of 


THE  BRITISH  CONSTITUTION.  337 

the  subject.  No  such  plan  was  ever  formed,  consequently  no  such 
first  principles,  original  model,  or  standard,  exist  :  I  mean,  there 
never  was  a  date  or  point  of  time  in  our  history,  when  the  go- 
vernment of  England  was  to  be  set  up  anew,  and  when  it  was  re- 
ferred to  any  single  person,  or  assembly,  or  committee,  to  frame 
a  charter  for  the  future  government  of*  the  country;  or  when 
a  constitution  so  prepared  and  digested,  was  by  common  consent 
received  and  established.  In  the  time  of  the  civil  wars,  or  rather 
between  the  death  of  Charles  the  First  and  the  restoi'ation  of  his 
son,  many  such  projects  \Vere  published,  but  none  were  carried 
into  execution.  The  great  Charter,  and  the  Bill  of  Rights,  were 
wise  and  strenuous  efforts  to  obtain  security  against  certain  abu- 
ses of  regal  power,  by  which  the  subject  had  been  formerly  ag- 
grieved ;  but  these  were,  either  of  them,  much  too  partial  modi- 
fications of  the  constitution,  to  give  it  a  new  original.  The  con- 
stitution of  England,  like  that  of  most  countries  in  Europe,  hath 
grown  out  of  occasion  and  emergency  ;  from  the  various  policy 
of  different  ages  ;  from  the  contentions,  successes,  interests,  and 
opportunities  of  different  orders  and  parties  of  men  in  the  com- 
munity. It  resembles  one  of  those  old  mansions,  which,  instead 
of  being  built  all  at  once,  after  a  regular  plan,  and  according  to 
the  rules  of  architecture  at  present  established,  has  been  reared 
in  different  ages  of  the  art,  has  been  altered  from  time  to  time, 
and  has  been  continually  receiving  additions  and  repairs  suited 
to  the  taste,  fortune,  or  conveniency  of  its  successive  proprie- 
tors. In  such  a  building,  we  look  in  vain  for  the  elegance  and 
proportion,  for  the  just  order  and  correspondence  of  parts,  which 
we  expect  in  a  modern  edifice  :  and  v-hich  external  symmetry, 
after  all  contributes  much  more  perhaps  to  the  amusement  of  the 
beholder,  than  the  accommodation  of  the  inhabitant. 

In  the  British,  and  possibly  in  all  other  constitutions,  there 
exists  a  wide  difference  between  the  actual  state  of  the  govern- 
ment and  the  theory.  The  one  results  from  tiiC  other  ;  but 
still  they  are  different.  When  we  contemplate  t!;e  theory  of  the 
British  government,  we  see  the  king  invested  with  the  most  ab- 
43 


338  THE  BRITISH  CONSTITUTION. 

solute  personal  impunity  ;  with  a  power  of  rejecting  laws  whicFi 
have  been  resolved  upon  by  both  houses  of  parliament ;  of  con- 
fering  by  iiis  charter,  upon  any  set  or  succession  of  men  he 
pleases,  the  privilege  of  sending  representatives  into  one  house 
of  parliament,  as  by  his  immediate  appointment  he  can  place 
whom  he  will  in  the  other.  What  is  this,  a  foreigner  might 
ask,  but  a  more  circuitous  despotism  ?  Yet,  when  we  turn  our 
attention  from  the  legal  existence,  to  the  actual  exercise  of  roy- 
al authority  in  England,  we  see  these  formidable  prerogatives 
dwindled  into  mere  ceremonies  ;  and,  in  their  stead,  a  sure  and 
commanding  influence,  of  which  the  constitution,  it  seems,  is  to- 
tally ignorant,  growing  out  of  that  enormous  patronage,  which 
tije  increased  extent  and  opulence  of  the  empire  has  placed  in 
the  disposal  of  the  executive  magistrate. 

Upon  questions  of  reform,  the  habit  of  reflection  to  be  en- 
couraged, is  a  sober  comparison  of  the  constitution  under  which 
we  live,  not  with  models  of  speculative  perfection,  but  with  the 
actual  chance  of  obtaining  a  better.  This  turn  of  thought  will 
generate  a  political  disposition,  equally  removed  from  that  pue- 
rile admiration  of  present  establishments,  which  sees  no  fault, 
and  can  endure  no  change,  and  that  distempered  sensibility, 
which  is  alive  only  to  perceptions  of  inconveniency,  and  is  too 
impatient  lo  be  delivered  from  the  uneasiness  which  it  feels,  to 
compute  either  the  peril  or  expense  of  the  remedy.  Political 
innovations  commonly  produce  many  effects  beside  those  that 
are  intended.  The  direct  consequence  is  often  the  least  im- 
portant. Incidental,  remote,  and  unthought  of  evils  or  advan- 
tages, frequently  exceed  the  good  that  is  designed,  or  the  incon- 
veniency that  is  foreseen.  It  is  from  the  silent  and  unobserv'ed 
operation,  from  the  obscure  progress  of  causes  set  at  work  for 
different  purposes,  that  the  greatest  revolutions  take  their  rise. 
When  Elizabeth,  and  hor  immediate  successor,  applied  them- 
selves to  the  encouragement  and  regulation  of  trade  by  many 
wise  laws,  they  knew  not  that,  together  with  wealth  and  indus- 
try, they  were   diffusing  a  consciousness  of  strength  and   inde- 


THE  BRITISH  CONSTITUTION.  339 

pendency,  which  would  not  long  endure,  under  the  forms  of  a 
mixed  government,  (he  dominion  of  arbitrary  princes.  When 
it  was  debated  whether  the  mutiny-act,  the  law  by  which  the 
artny  is  governed  and  maintained,  should  be  temporary  or  per- 
petual, little  else  probably  occurred  to  the  advocates  of  an  an- 
nual bill  than  the  expediency  of  retaining  a  control  over  the 
most  dangerous  prerogative  of  the  crown — the  direction  and 
command  of  a  standing  army  ;  whereas,  in  effect,  this  single 
reservation  has  altered  the  whole  frame  and  quality  of  the  Brit- 
ish constitution.  For  since,  in  consequence  of  the  military  sys- 
tem which  prevails  in  neighbouring  and  rival  nations,  as  well  as 
on  account  of  the  internal  exigencies  of  government,  a  standing 
army  has  become  essential  to  the  safety  and  administration  of  the 
empire,  it  enables  parliament,  by  discontinuing  this  necessary 
provision,  so  to  enforce  its  resolutions  upon  any  other  subject, 
as  to  render  the  king's  dissent  to  a  law,  which  has  received  the 
approbation  of  both  houses,  too  dangerous  an  experiment  any 
longer  to  be  advised.  A  contest  between  the  king  and  parlia- 
ment cannot  now  be  persevered  in  without  a  dissolution  of  the 
government.  Lastly,  when  the  constitution  conferred  upon  the 
crown  the  nomination  to  all  employments  in  the  public  service, 
the  authors  of  this  arrangement  were  led  to  it,  by  the  obvious 
propriety  of  leaving  to  a  master  the  choice  of  his  servants  ;  and 
by  the  manifest  inconveniency  ot  engaging  the  national  council, 
upon  every  vacancy,  in  those  personal  contests  which  attend 
elections  to  places  of  honour  and  emolument.  Our  ancestors 
did  not  observe,  that  this  disposition  added  an  influence  to  the 
regal  office,  which,  as  the  number  and  value  of  public  employ- 
ments increased,  would  supercede  in  a  great  measure  the  forms, 
and  change  the  character  of  the  ancient  constitution  :  They 
knew  not,  what  the  experience  and  reflection  of  modern  ages 
has  discovered,  that  patronage  universally  is  power  ;  that  he 
who  possesses  in  a  sufficient  degree  the  means  of  gratifying  the 
desires  of  mankind  after  wealth  and  distinction,  by  whatever 
checks  and  forms  bis  authority  may  be  limited  or  disguised. 


340  THE  BRITISH  CONSTITUTION. 

will  direct  the  management  of  public  affairs.     Whatever  be  the 
mechanism    of  the  political  engine,  he  will  guide   the   motion. 
These  instan«es  are  adduced  to    illustrate    the  proposition    we 
laid  down,  that,  in  politics,  the  most   important  and  permanent 
effects  have,  for  the  most  part,  been  incidental  and  unforeseen  ; 
and  this  proposition    we    inculcate    for  the  sake  of  the   caution 
which  it  teaches,  that  changes  ought  not  to  be  adventured   upon 
without   a  comprehensive    discernment   of  the    consequences, — 
without  a  knowledge,  as  well  of  the  remote   tendency,  as  of  the 
immediate  design.     The  courage  of  a  statesman  should  resem- 
that  of  a  commander,  who,  however  regardless  of  personal  dan- 
ger, never  forgets,  that,  with  his  own,  he  commits  the  lives  and 
fortunes  of  a  multitude  ;  and  who  does   not   consider   it   as  any 
proof  of  zeal  or  valour,  to  stake  the  safety  of  other  men  upon  the 
success  of  a  perilous  or  desperate  enlerprize. 

There  is  one  end  of  civil  government  peculiar  to  a  good  con- 
stitution, namely,  the  happiness  of  its  subjects  ;  there  is  anoth- 
er end  essential  to  a  good  government,  but  common  to  it  with 
many  bad  ones, — its  own  preservation.  Observing  that  the 
best  form  of  government  would  be  defective,  which  did  not  provide 
for  its  own  permanency,  in  our  political  reasonings  we  consider 
all  such  provisions  as  expedient ;  and  are  content  to  accept  as 
a  sufficient  reason  for  a  measure,  or  law,  that  it  is  necessary  or 
conducive  to  the  preservation  of  the  constitution.  Yet,  in  truth, 
such  provisions  are  absolutely  expedient,  and  such  an  excuse  fi- 
nal, only  whilst  the  constitution  is  worth  preserving  ;  that  is,  un- 
til it  can  be  exchanged  for  a  better.  I  premise  this  distinction, 
because  many  things  in  the  English,  as  in  every  constitution, 
are  to  be  vindicated  and  accounted  for  solely  from  their  tenden- 
cy to  maintain  the  government  in  its  present  state,  and  the  sev- 
eral parts  of  it  in  possession  of  the  powers  which  the  constitution 
has  assigned  to  them  ;  and  because  1  would  wish  it  to  be  re- 
marked, that  such  a  consideration  is  always  subordinate  to 
another, — the  value  and  usefulness  of  the  constitution  itself. 
'Pif  GovernmeiU  of  England,  which  has  been  s.omclimes  calv 


THE  BRITISH  CONSTITUTION.  341  • 

kd  a  raixed  government,  sometimes  a  limited  monarchy,  is 
formed  by  a  combinatioD  of  the  three  regular  species  of  govern- 
ment,— the  monarchy,  residing  in  the  King  ;  the  aristocracy, 
in  the  House  of  Lords  ;  and  the  republic,  being  represented  by 
the  House  of  Commons.  The  perfection  intended  by  such  a 
scheme  of  government  is,  to  unite  the  advantages  of  the  several 
simple  forms,  and  to  exclude  the  inconveniences.  To  what  de- 
gree this  purpose  is  attained,  or  attainable,  in  the  British  con- 
stitution ;  wherein  it  is  lost  sight  of  or  neglected  ;  and  by 
what  means  it  may  in  any  part  be  promoted  with  better  success, 
the  reader  will  be  enabled  to  judge,  by  a  separate  recollection 
of  these  advantages  and  inconveniences,  as  enumerated  in  the 
preceding  chapter  and  a  distinct  application  of  each  to  the  po- 
litical condition  of  this  country.  ^Ye  will  present  our  remarks 
upon  the  subject  in  a  brief  account  of  the  expedients  by  which 
the  British  constitution  provides, — 

1st,  For  the  interest  of  its  subjects. 

2dly,  For  its  own  preservation. 

The  contrivances  for  the  first  of  these  purposes  are  the  fol- 
lowing : 

In  order  to  promote  the  establishment  of  salutary  public  laws, 
every  citizen  of  the  state  is  capable  of  becoming  a  member  of 
the  senate  ;  and  every  senator  possesses  the  right  of  propound- 
ing to  the  deliberation  of  the  legislature  whatever  law  he  pleases. 

Every  district  of  the  empire  enjoys  the  privilege  of  choosing 
representatives,  informed  of  the  interests,  and  circumstances, 
and  desires  of  their  constituents,  and  entitled  by  their  situation 
to  communicate  that  information  to  the  national  council.  The 
meanest  subject  has  some  one  whom  he  can  call  upon  to  bring 
forward  his  complaints  and  requests  to  public  attention. 

By  annexing  the  right  of  voting  for  members  of  the  House  of 
Commons  to  diflerent  qualifications  in  dift'erent -places,  each  or- 
der and  profession  of  men  in  the  community  become  virtually 
.represented;  that  is,  men  of  all  orders  and  professions,  states. 
men,  courtiers,  country  getitlemen,  lawyers,  merchants,  manu- 


34 i  THE  BRITISH  CONSTITUTIOxX. 

faclureis,  soldiers,  sailors  interested  in  the  prosperity,  and  ex- 
perienced in  the  occupation  of  their  respective  professions,  ob- 
tain seats  in  parliament. 

The  elections,  at  the  same  time,  are  so  connected  with  the 
influence  of  landed  property,  as  to  afford  a  certainty  that  a  con- 
siderable number  of  men  of  great  estates  will  be  returned  to 
parliament ;  and  arc  also  so  modified,  that  men  the  most  emin- 
ent and  successful  in  their  respective  professions,  are  the  most 
likely,  by  their  riches,  or  the  weight  of  their  stations  to  prevail 
in  these  competitions. 

The  number,  fortune,  and  quality  of  the  members  ;  the  vari- 
ety of  interests  and  characters  amongst  them;  above  all,  the 
temporary  duration  of  their  power,  and  the  change  of  men 
which  every  new  election  produces,  are  so  many  securities  to 
the  public,  as  well  against  the  subjection  of  their  judgments  to 
?ny  external  dictation,  as  against  the  formation  of  a  junto  in 
their  own  body,  sufficiently  powerful  to  govern  their  decisions. 

The  representatives  are  so  intermixed  with  the  constituents, 
and  the  constituents  with  the  rest  of  the  people,  that  they  can- 
not, without  a  partiality  too  flagrant  to  be  endured,  impose  any 
burthen  upon  the  subject  in  which  they  do  not  share  themselves  ; 
iior  scarcely  can  they  adopt  an  advantageou:?  regulation,  in  which 
their  own  interests  will  not  participate  of  the  advantage. 

The  proceedings  and  debates  of  parlianunt,  and  the  parlia- 
mentary conduct  of  each  representative,  are  known  by  the  pco- 
]>le  at  largo. 

The  representative  is  so  far  dependent  upon  the  constituent, 
and  political  importance  upon  public  favour,  that  a  senator 
most  effectually  recommends  himself  to  eminence  and  advance- 
ment in  the  state,  by  contriving  and  patronizing  laws  of  public 
utility. 

When  intelligence  of  the  condition,  wants,  and  occasions  of 
the  people,  is  thus  collected  from  every  quarter;  when  such  a 
variety  of  invention,  and  so  many  understandings  are  set  at 
work  upon  the  subject ;  it  may  be  presumed,  that  the  most  el- 


THE  BRITISH  CONSTITUTION.  343 

igible  expedient,  remedy,  or  improvement,  will  occur  to  some 
one  or  other  ;  and  when  a  wise  council,  or  beneficial  regula- 
tion, is  once  suggested,  it  may  be  expected,  from  the  dispositiort 
of  an  assembly  so  constituted  as  the  British  House  of  Commons 
is,  that  it  cannot  fail  of  receiving  the  approbation  of  a  majority. 

To  prevent  those  destructive  contentions  for  the  supreme 
power,  which  are  sure  to  take  place  where  the  members  of  the 
state  do  not  live  under  an  acknowledged  head,  and  a  known  rule 
of  succession  ;  to  preserve  the  people  in  tranquillity  at  home,  by  a 
speedy  and  vigorous  execution  of  the  laws;  to  protect  their  interest 
abroad,  by  strength  and  energy  in  military  operations,  by  those 
advantages  of  decision,  secrecy,  and  despatch,  which  belong 
to  the  resolutions  of  monarchical  councils  : — for  these  purposes, 
the  constitution  has  committed  the  executive  government  to  the 
administration  and  limited  authority  of  an  hereditary  king. 

In  the  defence  of  the  empire  ;  in  the  maintenance  of  its 
power,  dignity,  and  privileges,  with  foreign  nations  ;  and  in 
the  providing  for  the  general  administration  of  municipal  justice, 
by  a  proper  choice  and  appointment  of  magistrates,  the  incli- 
nation of  the  king  and  of  the  people  usually  coincide  :  in  this 
part,  therefore,  of  the  regal  office,  the  constitution  entrusts  the 
prerogative  with  ample  powers. 

The  dangers  principally  to  be  apprehended  from  regal  govem- 
ment  relate  to  the  two  articles  of  taxation  and  punishment.  In 
every  form  of  government,  from  which  the  people  are  excluded, 
it  is  the  interest  of  the  governors  to  get  as  much,  and  of  the  govern- 
ed to  give  as  little,  as  they  can  :  the  power  also  of  punishment,  in 
the  hands  of  an  arbitrary  prince,  oftentimes  becomes  an  engine, 
of  extortion,  jealousy,  and  revenge.  Wisely,  therefore,  hath  the 
British  constitution  guarded  the  safety  of  the  people,  in  these 
two  points,  by  the  most  studious  precautions. 

Upon  that  of  taxation  every  law  which,  by  the  remotest  con- 
struction, may  be  deemed  to  levy  money  upon  the  property  of 
the  subject,  must  originate,  that  is,  must  first  be  proposed  and 
assented  to  in  the  House  of  Commons  :  by  which  regulation,  ac- 


344  THE  BRITISH  CONSTITUTION*. 

companying  the  weight  which  that  assembly  possesses  in  all  its 
functions,  the  levying  of  taxes  is  almost  exclusively  reserved  to 
the  popular  part  of  the  constitution,  who,  it  Is  presumed,  will 
not  tax  themselves,  nor  their  tellow-suhjects  without  being  first 
convinced  of  the  necessity  of  the  aids  which  they  grant. 

The  application  also  of  the  public  supplies  is  watched  with 
the  same  circumspection  as  the  assessment.  Many  taxes  are  an- 
nual ;  the  produce  of  others  is  mortgaged,  or  appropriated  to 
specific  services  ;  the  expenditure  of  all  of  them  is  accounted 
for  to  the  House  of  Commons  ;  as  computations  of  the  charge  of 
the  purpose  for  which  they  arc  wanted,  are  previously  submitted 
to  the  same  tribunal. 

In  the  infliction  of  punishment,  the  power  of  the  crown,  and 
of  the  magistrate  appointed  by  the  crown,  is  confined  bv  the 
most  precise  limitations  :  the  guilt  of  the  offender  must  be  pro- 
nounced by  twelve  men  of  his  own  order,  indifferently  chosen 
out  of  the  county  where  the  offence  was  committed  ;  the  punish- 
ment, or  the  limits  to  which  the  punishment  may  be  extended, 
are  ascertained,  and  affixed  to  the  crime,  by  laws  which  know 
not  the  person  of  the  criminal. 

And  whereas  the  arbitrary  or  clandestine  seizure  and  con- 
finement of  the  person  is  the  injury  most  to  be  dreaded  from  the 
strong  hand  of  the  executive  government,  because  it  deprives 
the  prisoner  at  once  of  protection  and  defence,  and  delivers  him 
into  the  power,  and  to  the  malicious  or  interested  designs  of  his 
enemies  ;  the  constitution  has  provided  against  this  danger  with 
extreme  solicitude.  The  ancient  writ  of  habeas-corpus,  the  ha- 
beas-corpus  act  of  Charles  the  Second,  and  the  practice  and  de- 
terminations of  our  sovereign  courts  of  justice  founded  upon  these 
laws,  afford  a  complete  remedy  for  every  conceivable  case  of 
illegal  imprisonment.* 

*  Upon  complaint  in  writing  by,  or  on  liehalf  of,  any  person  in  confine- 
ment, to  any  of  the  four  courts  of  Westminster  Hall,  in  term  time,  or  to 
Ithe  Lord  Chancellor,  or  one  of  the  Judges,  in  the  vacation ;  and  upon  a 
probable  reaioa  being  suggested  to  question  the  legality  of  the  detention, 


THE  BRITISH  CONS^HTUTION.  345 

Treason  being  that  charge,  under  colour  of  which  the  destruc- 
tion of  an  obnoxious  individual  is  often  sought  :  and  government 
being  at  all  times  more  immediately  a  party  in  the  prosecution  ; 
the  law,  beside  the  general  care  with  wliich  it  watches  over  the 
safety  of  the  accused,  in  this  case,  sensible  of  the  unequal  con- 
test in  which  the  subject  is  engaged,  has  assisted  his  defence  with 
extraordinary  indulgences.  By  two  statutes,  enacted  since  the 
Revolution,  every  person  indicted  for  high  treason  shall  have  a 
copy  of  his  indictment,  a  list  of  the  witnesses  to  be  produced, 
and  of  the  jury  impannelled,  delivered  to  him  ten  days  before  the 
trial  ;  he  is  also  permitted  to  make  his  defence  by  counsel  ; — 
privileges  which  are  not  allowed  to  the  prisoner,  in  a  trial  for 
any  other  crime  :  and,  wliat  is  of  more  importance  to  the  party 
than  all  the  rest,  the  testimony  of  two  witnesses,  at  the  least,  is 
required  to  convict  a  person  of  treason  ;  whereas,  one  positive 
witness  is  sufficient  in  almost  every  other  species  of  accusation. 

We  proceed,  in  the  second  place,  to  inquire  in  what  manner 
the  constitution  has  provided  for  its  own  preservation  ;  that  is, 
in  what  manner  each  part  of  the  legislature  is  secured  in  the  ex- 
ercise of  the  powers  assigned  to  it,  from  the  encroachment  of  t^ie 

a  writ  is  issued  to  the  person  in  whose  custody  tlie  complainant  is  alleged 
to  be,  commanding;  him  within  a  certain  limited  and  short  time  to  pro- 
duce the  body  of  the  prisoner,  and  the  authority  under  which  he  is  de- 
tained. Upon  the  retui-n  of  the  writ,  strict  and  instantaneous  obedience 
to  which  is  enforced  by  very  severe  penalties,  if  no  lawful  cause  of  im- 
prisonment appear,  the  court  or  jud;je  before  whom  the  prisoner  is  brought, 
is  authorized  and  bound  to  discharge  him  ;  even  though  he  may  have 
been  committed  by  a  secretary,  or  other  high  officer  of  state,  by  the  privy 
council,  or  by  the  king  in  person  :  so  that  no  subject  of  this  realm  can  be 
held  in  conlinement  by  any  power,  or  imder  any  pretence  whatever,  pro- 
vided he  can  find  means  to  convey  his  complaint  to  one  of  the  four  courts 
of  Westminster  Hall,  or  during  their  recess,  to  any  of  the  judges  of  the 
same,  unless  all  these  several  tribunals  agree  in  determining  his  imprison- 
ment to  be  legal.  He  may  make  application  to  them  in  succession  ;  and. 
if  one  out  of  th«  number  be  found,  who  thinks  the  prisoner  entitled  to  his 
nhfrty.  Iliat  one  po-sc'^^es  aulhoritv  to  restore  it  to  him, 
■11 


340  THE  BRITISH  CONSTITUTION. 

other  parts  ;  this  security  is  sometimes  called  llie  balance  of  the 
constitxilion  ;  and  the  political  equilibrium,  uliich  this  jjhrase 
denotes,  consists  in  two  contrivances  ; — a  balance  of  power,  and 
a  balance  ot'  interest.  By  a  Imlance  of  power  is  meant,  thnt 
there  is  no  power  possessed  by  one  part  of  the  legislature,  the 
abuse  or  excess  of  which  is  not  checked  by  some  antagonist  pow- 
er, residing  in  another  part.  Thus  the  power  of  the  two  houses 
of  parliament  to  frame  laws,  is  checked  by  the  kinc!:''s  negative  ; 
that,  if  laws  subversive  of  regal  government  should  obtain  the 
consent  of  parliament,  the  reigning  prince,  by  interposing  his 
prerogative,  may  save  the  necessary  rights  and  authority  of  his 
station.  On  the  other  hand,  the  arbitrary  application  of  this 
negative  is  checked  by  (he  privilege  which  parliament  possesses, 
of  refusing  supplies  of  money  to  the  exigencies  of  the  king's  ad- 
ministration. The  conslitutiona!  maxim,  "  that  the  king  can  do 
"  no  wrong,"  is  balanced  by  another  maxim,  not  less  constitu- 
tional, "that  the  illegal  commands  of  the  king  do  not  iustify 
"  those  who  assist,  or  concur,  in  carrying  them  into  execution  :"' 
and  by  a  second  rule,  subsidiary  to  this,  "  that  the  acts  of  the 
"  crown  acquire  not  any  legal  force,  until  authenticated  by  the 
'•  subscription  of  some  of  its  great  officers."  The  wisdom  of  this 
contrivance  is  worthy  of  observation.  As  the  king  could  not  bp 
punished  without  a  civil  war,  the  constitution  exempts  his  person 
from  trial  or  account  ;  but,  lest  this  impunity  should  encourage 
a  licentious  exercise  of  dominion,  various  obstacles  are  opposed 
to  the  private  will  of  the  sovereign,  when  directed  to  illegal  ob- 
jects. The  pleasure  of  the  crown  must  be  announced  with  cer- 
tain solemnities,  and  attested  by  certain  officers  of  state.  In 
some  cases,  the  royal  order  must  be  signified  by  a  secretary  of 
state  ;  in  others,  it  must  pass  under  the  privy  seal  ;  and  in  ma- 
nv,  under  the  great  ."cnl.  And  when  the  king's  command  is  reg- 
ularly published,  no  mischief  can  be  achieved  by  it,  without  the 
ministry  and  compliance  of  those  to  whom  it  is  directed.  Now 
;^ill  who  either  concur  in  an  illegal  order,  by  authenticating  its 
publication  with  their  seal  or  subscription,  or  who  assist  in  car- 


THE  BRITISH  CONSTITUTION.  347 

rying  it  into  execution,  subject  themselves  to  prosecution  and 
punishment  for  the  part  they  have  taken  ;  and  are  nut  permitted 
to  plead  or  produce  the  command  of  the  king,  in  justification  ot 
their  obedience.*  And,  that  the  crown  may  not  protect  its  ser- 
vants in  a  criminal  submission  to  their  master's  desires,  by  the 
power  which  in  general  belongs  to  its  authority,  of  pardoning  of- 
fences, and  of  remitting  the  sentence  of  the  law  prosecutions  by 
impeachment,  which  is  the  usual  way  of  proceeding  against  of- 
fenders of  this  sort,  are  excepted  out  of  that  prerogative.  But 
further  ;  the  power  of  the  crown  to  direct  the  military  force  of 
the  kingdom,  is  balanced  by  the  annual  necessity  of  resorting  to 
parliament  for  the  maintenance  and  government  of  that  force. 
The  power  of  the  king  to  declare  war,  is  checked  by  the  pri^i'i- 
lege  of  tlie  House  of  Commons  to  grant  or  withhold  the  supplies 
by  which  the  war  must  be  carried  on.  The  king's  choice  of  his 
ministers  is  controlled  by  the  obligation  he  is  under  of  appoint- 
ing those  men  to  oflices  in  the  state,  who  are  found  capable  of 
managing  the  affairs  of  his  government,  with  the  two  houses  of 
parliament.  Which  consideration  imposes  such  a  necessity  upon 
the  crown,  as  hath  in  a  great'  measure  subdued  the  influence  of 
favouritism  ;  insomuch  that  it  is  become  no  uncommon  spectacle 
in  this  country,  to  see  men  promoted  by  the  king  to  the  highest 
•offices  and  richest  preferments  which  he  has  in  his  power  to  be- 
stow, who  have  been  distinguished  by  their  opposition  to  his 
personal  inclinations. 

*  Amongst  the  cheeks  which  parliament  hold  over  the  administration 
•f  public  affairs,  I  forbear  to  mention  the  practice  of  addressing  the  king, 
to  know  by  whose  advice  he  resolved  upon  a  particular  measure ;  and  of 
punishing  the  authors  of  that  ad  vice  for  the  counsel  they  had  given.  Not 
because  I  think  this  method  either  unconstitutional  or  improper ;  but  for 
this  reason — that  it  does  not  so  much  subject  the  king  to  the  control  of 
parliament,  as  it  supposes  him  to  be  already  in  subjection.  For  if  the  king 
were  so  far  out  of  the  reach  of  the  resentment  of  the  House  of  Commons, 
39  to  be  able  with  safety  to  refuse  the  information  requested,  or  to  take 
upon  himself  the  responsibility  inquired  after,  there  must  be  an  rai  el 
all  proceedings  founded  iu  this  mode  of  spplicalion. 


318  THE  BRITISH  CONSTITUTION. 

By  the  balance  of  interest,  which  accomp;mies  and  gives  efFi- 
cncy  to  the  balance  of  po-wer,  is  meant  this  : — that  the  respective 
interests  ot  the  three  states  of  the  empire  are  so  disposed  and  ad- 
justed, that  whichever  of  the  three  shall  attempt  any  encroach- 
ment, the  other  two  will  unite  in  resisting  it.  If  the  king  should 
endeavour  to  extend  his  authority,  by  contracting  the  power  and 
privileges  of  the  Commons,  the  House  of  Lords  would  see  their 
(nvn  dignity  endangered  by  every  advance  wiiich  the  crown 
made  to  independency  upon  the  resolutions  of  parliament.  The 
admission  of  arbitrary  power  is  no  less  formidable  to  the  grand- 
eur of  the  aristocracy  than  it  is  fatal  to  the  liberty  of  the  repub- 
lic ;  that  is,  it  would  reduce  the  nobility  from  the  hereditary 
share  they  possess  in  the  national  councils,  in  which  their  real 
greatness  consists,  to  the  being  made  a  part  of  the  empty  pa- 
geantry of  a  despotic  court.  On  the  other  hand,  if  the  House 
of  Commons  should  intrench  upon  the  distinct  province,  or  usurp 
the  established  prerogative  of  the  crown,  the  House  of  Lords 
would  receive  an  instant  alarm  from  every  new  stretch  of  popu- 
lar power.  In  every  contest  in  w'hich  the  king  may  be  engaged 
with  the  representative  body,  in  defence  of  his  established  share 
of  authoritv,  he  will  find  a  sure  ally  in  the  collective  power  of 
the  nobilit}'-. 

An  attachment  to  the  monarchy,  fiom  which  they  derive  their 
own  distinction  ;  the  allurements  of  a  court,  in  tlie  habits  and 
with  the  sentiments  of  which  they  have  been  brought  up  ;  their 
hatred  of  equality,  and  of  all  levelling  pretensions  which  may 
ultimately  affect  the  privileges,  or  even  the  existence  of  their 
order  ;  in  short,  every  principle  and  every  prejudice  which  are 
wont  to  actuate  human  conduct,  will  determine  their  choice  to 
the  side  and  support  of  the  crown.  Lastly,  if  the  nobles  them- 
selves should  attempt  to  revive  the  superiorities  which  their  an- 
cestors exercised  under  the  feudal  constitution,  the  king  and  the 
people  would  alike  remember,  how  the  one  had  been  insulted, 
and  the  other  enslaved,  by  that  barbarous  tyranny.  They  would 
forget  the  natural  opposition   of  their  views  and  inclinations, 


THE  BRITISH  CONSTITUTION.  349 

when  they  saw  themselves  threatened  with  a  return  of  a  domin- 
ation, which  was  odious  and  intolerable  to  both. 

The  reader  will  have  observed,  that  in  describing  the  British 
constitution,  little  notice  has  been  taken  of  the  House  of  Lords. 
The  proper  use  and  design  of  this  part  of  the  constitution,  are 
the  following  :  First  to  enable  the  king,  by  his  right  of  bestow- 
ing the  peerage,  to  reward  the  servants  of  the  public,  in  a  man- 
ner most  grateful  to  them,  and  at  a  small  expense  to  the  nation  ; 
secondly.  To  fortify'  the  power  and  to  secure  the  stability  of 
regal  government,  by  an  order  of  men  naturally  allied  to  its  in- 
terests ;  and,  thirdly,  To  answer  a  purpose,  which  though  of 
superior  importance  to  the  other  two, •does  not  occur  so  readily 
to  our  observation  ;  namely  to  stem  the  progress  of  popular  fury. 
Large  bodies  of  men  are  subject  to  sudden  phrensies.     Opinions 
are  sometimes  circulated  amongst  a  multitude  without  proof  or 
examination,  acquiring  confidence  and  reputation  merely  by  be- 
ing repeated  from  one  to  another  ;    and  passions  founded  upon 
these  opinions,  diffusing  themselves  with  a  rapidity  that  can  nei- 
ther be  accounted  for  nor  resisted,  may  agitate  a  country  with 
the  most  violent  commotions.     Now,  the   only  way  to  stop  the 
fermentation,  is  to  divide  the  mass  ;  that  is,  to  erect  different 
orders  in  the  community,  with  seperate  prejudices  and  interests. 
And  this  may  occasionally  become  the  use  of  an  hereditary  no- 
bility, invested  with  a  share  of  legislation.     Averse  to  the  pre- 
judices which  actuate  the  minds  of  the  vulgar  ;  accustomed  to 
contemn  the  clamour  of  the  populace  ;  disdaining  to  receive  laws 
and  opinions  from  tlieir  inferiors  in  rank,  they  will  oppose  resolu- 
tions which  are  founded  in  the  folly  and  violence  of  the  lower  part 
of  the  community.     Was  the  voice  of  the  people  always  dicta- 
ted by  reflection  ;  did  every  man,  or  even  one  man  in  a  hundred, 
think  for  himself,  or  actually  consider  the  measure  he  was  about 
to  approve  or  censure  ;  or  even  were  the  common  people  toler- 
ably steadfast  in  the  judgment  which  they  formed,  I  should  hold 
the  interference  of  a  superior  order  not  only  superfluous  but  wrong ; 
for  when  every  thing  is  allowed  to  difference  of  rank  and  educa- 


360  THE  BRITISH  CONSTITUTION. 

tion,  whicli  tlic  actual  slate  of  these  advantages  des-erves,  that, 
after  all,  is  most  likely  to  be  right  and  expedient,  which  appears 
to  be  so  to  the  separate  judgment  and  decision  of  a  great  major- 
ity of  the  nation  ;  at  least,  that,  in  general,  is  right /or  tlieiv, 
.which  is  agreeable  to  their  fixed  opinions  and  desires.  But 
when  we  observe  what  is  urged  as  the  public  opinion,  to  be,  in 
truth,  the  opinion  only,  or  perhaps  the  feigned  profession,  of 
a  few  crafty  leaders  ;  that  the  numbers  who  join  in  the  cry, 
serve  only  to  swell  and  multiply  the  sound,  without  any  acces- 
sion of  judgment,  or  exercise  of  understanding  ;  and  that  often- 
times the  wisest  counsels  have  been  thus  overborne  l)y  tumult 
and  uproar  ; — we  may  cmiceive  occasions  to  arise,  in  which  the 
commonwealth  may  be  saved  by  the  reluctance  of  the  nobility 
to  adopt  the  caprices,  or  to  yield  to  the  vehemence  of  the  com- 
mon people.  In  expecting  this  advantage  from  an  order  of  no- 
bles, we  do  not  suppwse  the  nobility  to  be  more  unprejudiced 
than  others  ;  we  only  suppose  that  their  prejudices  will  be  dif- 
ferent from,  and  may  occasoinally  counteract  those  of  others. 

If  the  personal  privileges  of  the  peerage,  which  are  usually 
so  many  injuries  to  the  rest  of  the  community,  be  restrained,  I 
see  little  inconvenicncy  in  the  increase  of  its  number  :  for,  it  is 
only  dividing  the  same  quantity  of  power  amongst  more  hands, 
which  is  rather  favourable  to  public  freedom  than  otherwise. 

The  admission  of  a  small  number  of  ecclesiastics  into  the 
House  of  Lords,  is  but  an  equitable  compensation  to  (he  clergy 
for  the  exclusion  of  their  order  fro'm'the  House  of  Commons. 
They  are  a  set  of  men  considerable  by  their  number  and  pro- 
perty, as  well  as  by  their  influence,  and  the  duties  of  their  sta- 
tion ;  yet  whilst  every  other  profession  has  those  amongst  the 
national  representatives,  who,  being  conversant  in  the  same  oc- 
cupation, are  able  to  state,  and  naturally  disposed  to  support, 
the  rights  and  interests  of  the  class  and  calling  to  which  they  be- 
long, the  clergy  alone  are  deprived  of  this  advantage  :  which 
hardship  is  made  up  to  them  by  introducing  the  prelacy  into 
parliament ;  and  if  bishops,  from  gratitude  or  expectation,  be 


THE  BRITLSH  CONSTITUTION.  351 

more  obsequious  to  the  will  of  the  crown  than  those  who  possess 
great  temporal  inheritances,  they  are  properly  inserted  into  that 
part  of  the  constitution,  from  which  much  or  frequent  resistance 
to  the  measures  of  government  is  not  expected. 

I  acknowledge,  that  I  perceive  no  sufficient  reason  for  exempt- 
ing the  persons  of  members  of  either  house  of  parliament  from 
arrest  for  debt.  The  counsels  or  suffrage  of  a  single  senator, 
especially  of  one  who  in  the  management  of  his  own  affairs  may 
justly  be  suspected  of  a  want  of  prudence  or  honesty,  can  sel- 
dom be  so  necessary  to  those  of  the  public,  as  to  justify  a  de- 
parture from  that  wholesome  policy,  by  which  the  laws  of  a 
commercial  state  punish  and  stigmatize  insolvency.  But  what- 
ever reason  may  be  pleaded  for  their  personal  immunity,  when 
this  privilege  of  parliament  is  extended  to  domestics  and  retain- 
ers, or  when  it  is  permitted  to  impede  or  delay  the  course  of  ju- 
dicial proceedings,  it  becomes  an  absurd  sacrifice  of  equal  jus- 
tice to  imaginary  dignity. 

There  is  nothing  in  the  British  constitution  so  remarkable  as 
the  irregularity  of  the  popular  representation.  The  House  of 
Commons  consists  of  five  hundred  and  forty-eight  members,  of 
whom  two  hundred  are  elected  by  seven  thousand  constituents  ; 
so  that  a  majority  of  these  seven  thousand,  without  any  reasona- 
ble title  to  superior  weight  and  influence  in  the  state,  may,  un- 
der certain  circimis'ances,  decide  a  question  against  the  opinion 
of  as  many  millions.  Or  to  place  the  same  object  in  another 
point  of  view:  If  my  estate  be  situated  in  one  county  of  the 
kingdom,  I  possess  the  ten-thousandth  part  of  a  single  represen- 
tative ;  if  in  another,  the  thousandth  ;  if  in  a  particular  district, 
I  may  be  one  in  twenty  who  choose  two  representatives  ;  if  in  a 
still  more  favoured  spot,  I  may  enjoy  the  right  of  appointing  two 
myself.  If  I  have  been  born,  or  dwell,  or  have  served  an  ap- 
prenticeship in  one  town,  I  am  represented  in  the  national  as- 
sembly by  two  deputies,  in  the  choice  of  whom  I  exercise  an 
actual  and  sensible  share  of  power  ;  if  accident  has  thrown  my 
birth,  or  habitulion.  or  service,  into  another  town,  I  have  no  rep- 


352  THE  ERITISH  CONSTIJUTION. 

rescnlativc  at  all,  nor  more  power  or  concern  in  the  ek-ctiun  of 
those  who  make  the  laws  by  which  1  am  governed,  than  it'  I  w:t.-; 
a  subject  of  the  grand  Signior  : — and  this  partially  subsists  witii- 
out  any  pretence  whatever  of  merit  or  of  propriety,  to  justify 
the  preference  of  one  place  to  another.  Or,  thirdly,  To  de- 
scribe the  state  of  national  representation  as  it  exists,  in  reality, 
it  may  be  affirmed,  I  believe,  with  truth,  that  about  one  half  ot 
the  House  of  Commons  obtain  their  seats  in  that  assembly  by 
the  election  of  the  people,  the  other  half  by  purchase,  or  by  the 
nomination  of  single  proprietors  of  great  estates. 

This  is  a  flagrant  incongruity  in  the  constitution  ;  but  it  is  one 
of  those  objections  which  strike  most  forcibly  at  first  sight.  The 
effect  of  all  reasoning  upon  the  subject  is  to  diminish  the  first 
impression  :  on  which  account  it  deserves  the  more  attentive  ex- 
amination, that  we  may  be  assured,  before  we  adventure  upon  a 
reformation,  that  the  magnitude  of  the  evil  justifies  the  danger 
of  the  experiment.  In  a  few  remarks  that  follow  we  would  be 
understood,  in  the  first  place,  to  decline  all  conference  with  those 
who  wish  to  alter  the  form  of  government  of  these  kingdoms. 
The  reformers  with  whom  we  have  to  do,  are  they  who,  whilst 
they  change  this  part  of  the  system,  would  retain  the  rest.  If 
any  Englishman  expects  more  happiness  to  his  country  under  a 
republic,  he  may  very  consistently  recommend  a  new-modelling 
of  elections  to  parliament  ;  because,  if  the  king  and  House  of 
Lords  were  laid  aside,  the  present  disproportionate  representa- 
tion would  produce  nothing  but  a  confused  and  ill-digested  olig- 
archy. In  like  manner  we  wave  a  controversy  with  those  wri- 
ters who  insist  upon  a  representation  as  a  natural  right  ;*  we 
consider  it  so  far  only  as  a  right  at  all,  as  it  conduces  to  public 

*  If  this  right  be  natural,  no  doubt  it  must  be  equal ;  and  the  right,  wc 
may  add,  of  one  sex  as  well  as  of  the  other.  Whereas  every  plan  of  rep- 
resentation that  we  have  heard  of,  begins  by  excluding  the  votes  of  wo- 
men ;  thus  cutting  off  at  a  single  stroke,  one  half  of  the  public  from  a 
right  T^hich  is  asserted  to  be  inherent  in  all ;  a  right  too,  as  some  repre- 
jeut  it,  not  only  universal,  but  unalienable  and  indefeasible. 


^HE  BRITISH  CONSTITUTION.  353 

tJtility  ;  that  is,  as  it  contributes  to  the  establishment  of  good 
laws,  or  as  it  secures  to  the  people  the  just  administration  of 
these  laws.  These  effects  depend  upon  the  disposition  and 
abilities  of  the  national  counsellors.  Wherefore,  if  men  the 
most  likely  by  their  qualifications  to  know  and  to  promote  the 
public  interest,  be  actually  returned  to  parliament,  it  signifies 
little  who  return  them.  If  the  properest  persons  be  elected, 
what  matters  it  by  whom  they  are  elected  ?  At  least,  no  pru- 
dent statesman  would  subvert  long  established,  or  even  settled 
rules  of  representation,  without  a  prospect  of  procuring  wiser  or 
better  representatives.  This,  then,  being  well  observed,  let  us, 
before  we  seek  to  obtain  any  thing  more,  consider  duly  ^vhat 
we  already  have.  We  have  a  House  of  Commons  composed  of 
five  hundred  and  forty- eight  members,  in  which  number  are 
found  the  most  considerable  landholders  and  merchants  of  the 
kingdom;  the  heads  of  the  army,  the  navy,  and  the  law;  the 
occupiers  of  great  offices  in  the  state  ;  together  with  many  pri- 
vate individuals,  eminent  by  their  knowledge,  eloquence  or  ac- 
tivity. Now,  if  the  country  be  not  safe  in  such  hands,  in  whose 
may  it  confide  its  interests  ?  If  such  a  number  of  such  men  be 
liable  to  the  influence  of  corrupt  motives,  what  assembly  of  men 
v.'ill  be  secure  from  the  same  danger  ?  Does  any  ne^v  scheme 
of  representation  promise  to  collect  together  more  wisdom,  or 
to  produce  firmer  integrity  ?  In  this  view  of  the  subject,  and 
attending  not  to  ideas  of  order  and  proportion,  (of  which-  i^iany 
minds  are  much  enamoured,)  but  to  eflfects  alone,  we  may  dis- 
cover just  excuses  for  those  parts  of  the  present  representation, 
which  appear  to  a  hasty  obierver  most  exceptionable  and  ab- 
surd. It  should  be  remembered,  as  a  maxim  extremely  -appli- 
cable to  this  subject,  that  no  order  or  assembly  of  men  whatever 
can  long  maintain  their  place  and  authority  in  a  mixed  govern- 
ment, of  which  the  members,  do  not  individually  possess  a  re- 
spectable share  of  personal  importance.  Now,  whatever  may 
be  the  defects  of  the  present  arrangement,  it  infallibly  secures  a 
great  weight  of  property  to  the  House  of  Commons,  by  render- 
45 


351  THE  BRITISH  CONSTITUTION. 

iiig  many  seals  in  thai  house  accessible  to  men  of  lai"ge  fortunes, 
and  to  such  men  alone.  By  which  means,  those  characters  arc 
engaged  in  the  defence  of  the  separate  rights  and  interests  of 
this  branch  of  the  legislature,  that  are  best  able  to  support  its 
claims.  The  constitution  of  most  of  the  small  boroughs,  espe- 
cially the  burgage  tenure,  contributes,  though  undesignedly,  to 
the  same  effect  ;  for  the  appointment  of  the  representatives  we 
find  commonly  annexed  to  certain  great  inheritances.  Elec- 
tions purely  popular  are  in  this  respect  uncertain  :  in  times  of 
tranquility,  the  natural  ascendency  of  wealth  will  prevail  ;  but 
when  the  minds  of  men  are  inflamed  by  political  dissensions, 
this  influence  often  yields  to  more  impetuous  motives.  The 
variety  of  tenures  and  qualifications  upon  which  the  right  of  vo- 
ting is  founded,  appears  to  me  a  recommendation  of  the  mode 
which  now  subsists,  as  it  tends  to  introduce  into  parliament  a 
corresponding  mixture  of  characters  and  professions.  It  hau 
been  long  observed,  that  conspicuous  abilities  are  most  fre- 
quently found  with  the  representatives  of  small  boroughs.  And 
this  is  nothing  more  than  what  the  laws  of  human  conduct  might 
teach  us  to  expect  :  when  such  boroughs  are  set  to  sale,  those 
men  are  likely  to  become  purchasers,  who  are  enabled  by  their 
talents  to  nlakc  the  best  of  their  bargain  ;  when  a  seat  is  not 
sold,  but  given  by  the  opulent  proprietor  of  a  burgage  tenure, 
the  patron  finds  his  own  interest  consulted  by  the  reputation 
and  abilities  of  the  nrember  whom  he  nominates.  If  certain  of 
the  nobility  hold  the  appointment  of  some  part  of  the  House  of 
Commons,  it  serves  to  maintain  that  alliance  between  the  two 
branches  of  the  legislature,  which  no  good  citizen  would  wish 
to  see  dissevered  ;  it  helps  to  keep  the  government  of  the  coun- 
try in  the  House  of  Commons,  in  which  it  would  not  perhaps 
long  continue  to  reside,  if  so  powerful  and  wealthy  a  part  of  the 
nation  as  the  peerage  compose,  were  excluded  from  all  share 
and  interest  in  its  constitution.  If  there  be  a  (ew  boroughs  so 
circumstanced  as  to  lie  at  the  disposal  of  the  crown,  whilst  the 
number  of  such  is  known  and  small,  they  may  be  tolerated  with 


THE  BRITISH  CONSTITUTION,  363 

little  danger.  For  where  would  be  the  impropriety,  or  the  ia- 
conveniency,  if  the  king  at  once  should  nominate  a  limited  num- 
ber of  his  servants  to  seats  in  parliament  ?  or,  what  is  the  same 
thing,  if  seats  in  parliament  were  annexed  to  the  possession  of 
certain  of  the  most  efficient  and  responsible  offices  in  the  state  ! 
The  present  representation,  after  all  these  deductions,  and  un- 
der the  confusion  in  which  it  contessediy  lies,  is  still  in  such  a 
degree  popular,  or  rather  the  representatives  are  so  connected 
with  the  mass  of  the  community  by  a  society  of  interests  and 
passions,  that  the  will  of  the  people,  when  it  is  determined,  per- 
manent, dtnd  general,  almost  always  at  length  prevails. 

Upon  the  whole,  in  the  several  plans  which  have  been  sug- 
gested, of  an  equal  or  a  reformed  representation,  it  will  be  dif- 
ficult to  discover  any  proposal,  that  has  a  tendency  to  throw 
more  of  the  business  of  the  nation  into  the  House  of  Commons, 
or  to  collect  a  set  of  men  more  fit  to  transact  that  business,  or 
in  general  more  interested  in  the  national  happiness  and  pros- 
perity. One  consequence,  however,  may  be  expected  from 
these  projects,  namely,  "  less  flexibility  to  the  influence  of  the 
crown."  And  since  the  diminution  of  this  influence  is  the  de- 
clared and  perhaps  the  sole  design  of  the  various  schemes  that 
have  been  produced,  whether  tor  regulating  the  elections,  con- 
tracting the  duration,  or  for  purifying  the  constitution  of  parlia- 
ment by  the  exclusion  of  placemen  and  pensioners  ;  it  is  obvi- 
ous, and  of  importance  to  remark,  that  the  more  apt  and  natur- 
al, as  well  as  the  more  safe  and  quiet  way  of  attaining  the  same 
<.'nd,  would  be  by  a  direct  reduction  of  the  patronage  of  the  crown, 
which  might  be  effected  to  a  certain  extent  without  hazarding 
further  consequences.  Superfluous  and  exorbitant  emoluments 
i){  office  may  not  only  be  suppressed  tor  the  present  ;  bi:t  pro- 
visions of  law  be  devised,  which  should  for  the  future  restrain 
within  certain  limits  the  number  and  value  of  the  offices  in  the 
donation  of  the  king. 

But  whilst  we  dispute  concerning  diffisrent  schemes  of  refor- 
mation, all  directed  to  the  same  end,  a  previous  doubt  occur* 


366  THE  BRITISH  CONSTITUTION. 

Jn  the  debate,  Avhetlicr  the  end  itself  be  good,  or  safe  ; — wheth- 
er the  influence  so  loudly  coiiiplnined  of  can  be  destroyed,  or 
even  diminished,  without  danger  to  the  state.  Whilst  the  zeal 
of  some  rnen  beholds  this  influence  with  a  jealousy,  which  noth- 
ing but  its  abolition  can  appease,  many  wise  and  virtuous  poli- 
ticians deem  a  considerable  portion  of  it  to  be  as  necessary  a 
part  of  the  British  constitution,  as  any  other  ingredient  in  the 
composition  ;  to  be  tliat,  indeed,  which  gives  cohesion  and  so- 
lidity to  the  whole.  Were  the  measures  of  government,  say 
they,  opposed  from  nothing  but  principle,  government,  ought  to 
have  nothing  but  the  rectitude  of  its  measures  to  support  them  : 
but  since  opposition  springs  from  other  motives,  government 
must  possess  an  influence  to  counteract  that  opposition  ;  to  pro- 
duce not  a  bias  of  the  passions,  but  a  neutrality  ; — it  must  have 
some  weight  to  cast  into  the  scale,  to  set  the  balance  even.  It 
is  the  nature  of  power,  always  to  press  upon  the  boundaries 
which  confine  it.  Licentiousness,  faction,  envy,  impatience  of 
control  or  inferiority  ;  the  secret  pleasure  of  mortifying  the 
great,  or  the  hope  of  dispossessing  them  ;  a  constant  willingness 
to  question  and  thwart  whatever  is  dictated,  or  even  proposed 
by  another  ;  a  disposition  common  to  all  bodies  of  men,  to  ex- 
tend the  claims  and  authority  of  their  orders  ;  above  all,  that 
love  of  power,  and  of  showing  «t,  which  resides  more  or  less  in 
every  human  breast,  and  which,  in  popular  os-cniblies,  is  in- 
flamed, like  every  other  passion,  by  communication  and  en* 
couragement :  These  motives,  added  to  private  designs  and  re- 
sentments, cherished  also  by  popular  acclamation,  and  operating 
TJpon  the  great  share  of  power  already  possessed  by  the  House 
of  Commons,  might  induce  a  majority,  or  at  least  a  large  party 
of  men  in  that  assembly,  to  unite  in  endeavouring  to  draw  to 
themselves  the  whole  government  of  the  state  ;  or  at  least,  so  to 
obstruct  the  conduct  of  public  aft'airs,  by  a  wanton  and  perverse 
opposition,  as  to  render  it  impossible  for  the  wisest  statesman  to 
tarry  forward  the  busine.":S  of  the  nation  in  parliament  with  sucj 
jC£X£  or  satisfaction. 


THE  BRITISH  CONSTITUTION.  357 

Some  passages  of  our  national  history  afford  grounds  lor  these 
apprehensions. — Before  the  accession  of  James  the  First,  or, 
at  least,  during  the  reigns  of  his  three  immediate  predeces- 
sors, the  government  of  England  was  a  government  by  force ; 
that  is,  the  king  carried  his  measures  in  parliament  by  intimi- 
dation.    A  sense  of  personal  danger  kept  the  members  of  the 
House  of  Common  in  subjection.     A  conjunction  of  fortunate 
causes  delivered  at  last  the  parliament  and  nation  from  slavery. 
That  overbearing  system,  which  had  declined  in  the  hands  of 
James,  expired  early  in  the  reign  of  his  son.     After  the  restor- 
ation, there  succeeded  in  its  place,  and  since  the    Revolution 
has  been  methodically  pursued,   the  more  successful  expedient 
o[  injluence.     Now,  we  remember  what  passed  between  the  loss 
of  terror,  and  the  establishment  of  influence.     The  transactions 
of  that  interval,  whatever  we  may  think  of  their  occasion  or  ef- 
•fectj  no  friend  of  regal  government  would  wish  to  see  revived. 
But  the  affairs  of  this  kingdom  aftbrd  a  more  recent  attestation 
to  the  same  doctrine.     In  the  British  colonies  of  North  Ameri- 
ca, the  late  assemblies  possessed  much  of  the  power  and  con- 
stitution of  our  House  of  Commons.     The  king  and  government 
of  Great  Britian  held  no  patronage  in  the  country,  which  could 
create    attachment  and  influence  sufficient  to    counteract   that 
restless,  arrogating  spirit,  which,  in  popular  assemblies,  when 
left  to  itself,  will  never  brook  an  authority  that  checks  and  in- 
terferes with  its  own".     To  this  cause,  excited  perhaps  by  some 
unseasonable   provocations,  we   may  attribute,  as    to  their  true 
and  proper  original,   (we   will   not  say   the    misfortunes,)  but, 
the  changes  that  have  taken  place  in  the  British  empire.     The 
admonition,  which  such  examples  suggest,  will  have  its  weight 
with  those,  who  are  content  with  the  general  frame    of  the  En- 
glish constitution  ;  and  who  consider  stability  amongst  the  first 
perfections  of  any  government. 

We  protest,  however,  against  any  construction,  by  which 
what  is  here  said  shall  be  attempted  to  be  applied  to  the  justi- 
fication of  bribery,  or  of  any  clandestine  reward  or  solicitation 


353  THC  BRITI3II  CONSTITUTro^^ 

whatever.  The  very  secrecy  of  such  negocialions  confesses  or 
begets  a  consciousness  of  guilt ;  which,  when  the  mind  is  once 
taught  to  endure  without  uneasiness,  the  character  is  prepared 
for  every  compliance  :  and  there  is  the  greater  danger  in  these 
corrupt  practices,  as  the  extent  of  tiieir  operation  is  unlimited  and 
unknown.  Our  apology  relates  solely  to  that  influence,  which 
results  from  the  acceptance  or  expectation  of  public  prefer- 
ments. Nor  does  the  influence,  which  we  defend,  require  any 
sacrifice  of  personal  probity.  In  political,  above  all  other  sub- 
jects, the  arguments,  or  rather  the  conjectures,  on  each  side  of 
a  question,  arc  oflon  so  equally  poised,  that  the  wi.5est  judg- 
ments may  be  held  in  suspense  :  these  I  call  subjects  of  indif- 
ference. But  again,  when  the  subject  is  not  iadiff'erent  in  itself, 
it  will  appear  such  to  a  great  part  of  those  to  whom  it  is  pro- 
posed, for  want  of  information,  or  rellcction,  or  experience,  or 
of  capacity  to  collect  and  weigh  the  reasons  by  which  either 
side  is  supported.  These  are  subjects  oi  apparent  indi/ferencc. 
This  indifference  occurs  still  more  frequently  in  personal  con- 
tests, in  which  we  do  not  often  discover  any  reason  of  public 
utility  for  the  preference  of  one  competitor  to  another.  These 
eases  compose  the  province  of  influence  :  that  is,  the  decision 
in  these  cases  will  inevitably  ])e  determined  by  influence  of  some 
sort  or  other.  The  only  douI)t  is,  what  influence  shall  be  ad- 
mitted. If  you  remove  the  influence  of  the  crown,  it  is  only  to 
inake  way  for  influence  iVom  a  different  quarter.  If  motives  of 
expectation  and  gratitude  be  withdrawn,  other  motives  will  suc- 
ceed in  their  place,  acting  probably  in  an  opposite  direction, 
but  equally  irrelative  and  external  to  the  proper  merits  of  the 
question.  There  exist,  as  we  have  seen,  passions  in  the  human 
heart,  which  will  always  make  a  strong  party  against  the  exec- 
utive power  of  a  mixed  government.  According  as  the  dispo- 
sition of  parliament  is  friendly  or  adverse  to  tlie  recommenda- 
tion of  the  crown  in  matters  which  are  really  or  apparently  in- 
different, as  indifference  hath  been  now  explained,  the  business 
of  the  empire  will  be  transacted  with  ease  and  convenience,  or 


THE  BRITISH  CONSTITUTION.  35^ 

pinbarrassed  with  endless  contention  and  difficulty.  Nor  is  it  a 
conclusion  founded  in  justice,  or  warranted  by  experience,  that, 
because  men  are  induced  by  views  of  interest  to  yield  their  con- 
sent to  measures,  concerning  which  their  judgment  decides  noth- 
ing, they  may  be  brought  by  the  same  influence  to  act  in  direct 
opposition  to  knowledge  and  duty.  V/hoever  reviews  the  ope- 
rations of  government  in  this  country  since  the  Revolution,  will 
find  few  even  of  the  most  questionable  measures  of  administra- 
tion, about  which  the  best  iiittriicted  judgment  might  not  have 
doubted  at  the  time  ;  but  of  which  he  may  affirm  with  certainty^ 
that  they  were  indiff'creiit  to  the  greatest  part  of  those  who  con- 
curred in  thera.  From  the  success,  or  the  facility,  with  which 
they  Vvho  dealt  out  the  patronage  of  the  crown  carried  measures 
like  these,  ought  we  to  conclude,  that  a  similar  application  of 
honours  and  emoluments  would  procure  the  consent  of  parlia- 
ment to  counsels  evidently  detrimental  to  the  common  welfare  ? 
Is  there  not,  on  the  contrary,  more  reason  to  fear,  that  the  prerog- 
ative, if  deprived  of  influence,  would  not  be  long  able  to  support 
itself  ?  For  when  we  reflect  upon  the  power  of  the  House  of 
Commons  to  extort  a  compliance  with  its  resolutions  from  the  oth- 
er parts  of  the  legislature  ;  or  to  put  to  death  the  constitution  by 
a  refusal  of  the  annual  grants  of  money  to  the  support  of  the  ne- 
cessary functions  of  government ; — when  we  reflect  also  what  mo- 
tives there  are,  which,  in  the  vicissitudes  of  political  interesifs 
and  passions,  may  one  day  arm  and  point  this  power  against  the 
executive  magistrate  ; — when  we  attend  to  these  considerations, 
we  shall  be  led  perhaps  to  acknowledge,  that  there  is  not  more 
of  paradox  than  of  probability,  in  that  important,  but  much  de- 
cried apophthegm,  "  that  an  independent  parliament  is  incou:- 
"palible  with  the  existence  of  the  monarchy." 


360  OF  JUSTICE. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

OF  THE  ADMINISTRATION  OF  JUSTICE. 

THE  first  maxim  of  a  free  stale  is,  tliat  the  laws  be  made  b\ 
one  set  of  men,  and  administered  by  another  ;  in  other  words, 
that  the  legislative  and  judicial  characters  be  kept  separate. 
Wlien'thcse  offices  are  united  in  the  same  person  or  assembly, 
particular  laws  are  made  for  particular  cases,  springing  often- 
times from  partial  motives,  and  directed  to  private  ends  :  whilst 
they  are  kept  separate,  general  laws  are  made  by  one  body  of 
men,  without  foreseeing  whom  they  may  affect ;  and,  when  made, 
must  be  applied  by  the  other,  let  them  affect  whom  they  will. 

For  the  sake  of  illustration,  let  it  be  supposed,  in  this  country, 
either  that,  parliaments  being  laid  aside,  the  courts  of  Westmin- 
ster-Hall made  their  own  laws  ;  or  that  the  two  houses  of  parlia- 
ment, with  the  king  at  their  head,  tried  and  decided  causes  at 
their  bar  ;  it  is  evident  in  the  first  place,  that  the  decisions,  of 
such  a  judicature  would  be  so  many  laws  ;  and,  in  the  second 
place,  that,  when  the  parties  and  the  interests  to  be  affected  by 
the  law  were  known,  the  inclinations  of  the  law-makers  would 
inevitably  attach  on  one  side  or  the  other  ;  and  that,  where  there 
were  neither  any  fixed  rules  to  regulate  their  determinations,  nor 
any  superior  power  to  control  their  proceedrngs,  these  inclina- 
tions would  interfere  with  the  integrity  of  public  justice.  The 
consequence  of  which  must  be,  that  the  subjects  of  such  a 
constitution  would  live  either  without  any  constant  laws,  that  is, 
without  any  known  pre-established  rules  of  adjudication  whatev- 
er ;  or  under  laws  made  for  particular  cases  and  particular  per- 
sons, and  partaking  of  the  contradictions  and  iniquity  of  the  mo- 
tives to  which  they  owed  their  origin. 

Which  dangers,  by  the  division  of  the  legislative  and  judicial 
functions,  are  effectually  provided  against.     Parliament  knows 


DF  JUSTtCE.  .  Mdi 

hrH  the  individuals  upon  whom  its  acts  will  operate  ;  it  lias  no 
Cases  or  parties  before  it ;  no  private  designs  to  serve  ;  conse- 
quently, its  resolutions  will  be  suggested  by  the  consideration  of 
universal  eifects  and  tendencies,  which  always  produces  innpar- 
tial  and  commonly  advantageous  regulations.  When  laws  are 
made,  courts  of  justice,  whatever  be  the  disposition  of  the  judg- 
es, must  abide  by  them  5  for,  the  legislative  being  necessarily 
the  supreme  power  of  the  state,  the  judicial,  and  every  other 
power,  is  accountable  to  that :  and  it  cannot  be  doubted,  but 
that  the  persons  who  possess  the  sovereign  authority  of  govern- 
ment, will  be  tenacious  of  the  laws  which  they  themselves  pre- 
scribe, and  sufficiently  jealous  of  the  a3Sum.ption  of  dispensing 
the  legislative  power  by  any  others. 

This  fundamental  rule  of  civil  jurisprudence  is  violated  in  the 
case  of  acts  of  attainder  or  confiscation,  in  bills  of  pains  and  pen- 
alties, and  in  all  ex  post  facto  laws  whatever,  in  which  parlia- 
ment exercises  the  double  office  of  legislature  and  judge.  And 
whoever  either  understands  the  value  of  the  rule  itself,  or  col- 
lects the  history  of  those  instances,  in  which  it  has  been  invaded, 
will  be  induced,  1  believe,  to  acknowledge,  that  it  had  been  wis- 
er and  safer  never  to  have  departed  from  it.  He  will  confess,  at 
least,  that  nolhfng  but  the  most  manifest  and  immediate  peril  of 
the  commonwealth  will  justifj'  a  repetition  of  these  dangerous  ex- 
amples. If  the  laws  in  being  do  not  punish  an  offender,  let  hiiu 
go  unpunished  ;  let  the  legislature,  admonished  of  the  defect  of 
the  laws,  provide  against  the  commission  of  futuie  crimes  of  the 
same  sort.  The  escape  of  one  delinquent  can  never  produce  so 
much  harm  to  the  community  as  may  arise  from  the  infraction 
of  a  rule,  upon  which  the  purity  of  public  justice,  and  the  ex* 
istencis  of  civil  liberty,  essentially  depend. 

The  next  security  for  the  impartial  administration  of  justice^ 
especially  in  decisions  to  which  government  is  a  party,  is  tlie 
independency  of  the  judges.  As  protection  against  every  illegal 
attack  upon  the  riglits  of  the  subject  by  the  servants  of  the  crown 
is  to  bo  sought  for  from  these  tribuaals,  the  judges  of  the  lanrt 
46 


362  OF  JUSTICi:. 

become  not  unfroqiiently  the  arbitrators  between  the  king  and 
the  people  ;  on  wiiich  account  they  ouglit  to  be  independent  of 
either  ;  or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  equally  dependent  upon  both  ; 
that  is,  if  they  be  appointed  by  the  one,  they  should  be  remov- 
able only  by  the  other.  This  was  the  policy  which  dictated 
that  memorable  improvement  in  our  constitution,  by  which  the 
judges,  who  before  the  Revolution  held  their  offices  during  the 
pleasure  of  the  king,  can  now  only  be  deprived  of  them  by  an 
address  from  both  houses  of  parliament  ;  as  the  most  regular, 
solemn,  and  authentic  way,  by  which  the  dissatisfaction  of  the 
people  can  be  expressed.  To  make  this  independency  of  the 
judges  complete,  the  public  salaries  of  their  office  ought  not  only 
to  be  certain,  both  in  amount  and  continuance,  but  so  liberal  as 
to  secure  their  integrity  from  the  temptation  of  secret  bribes 
w  hich  liberality  will  answer  also  the  further  purpose  of  preserv- 
ing their  jurisdiction  from  contempt,  and  their  characters  from 
suspicion  ;  as  well  as  of  rendering  the  station  worthy  of  the  am- 
bition of  men  of  eminence  in  their  profession. 

A  third  precaution  to  be  observed  in  the  formation  of  comi-ts 
of  justice  is,  that  the  number  of"  the  judges  be  small.  For,  be- 
side that  the  violence  and  tumult  inseparable  from  large  assem- 
blies, are  inconsistent  with  t/ie  patience,  method,  and  attention 
requisite  in  judicial  investigations  ;  beside  that  all  passions  and 
prejudices  act  with  augmented  force  upon  a  collected  multitude  : 
beside  these  objection?,  judges,  when  they  are  numerous,  divide 
the  shame  of  an  unjust  determination  :  they  shelter  themselves 
under  one  another's  example  ;  each  man  thinks  his  own  charac- 
ter hid  in  the  crowd  :  for  which  reason,  the  judges  ought  always 
to  be  so  few,  as  that  the  conduct  of  each  may  be  conspicuous  to 
public  ebservation  ;  that  each  may  be  responsible  in  his  separate 
and  particular  reputation  for  the  decisions  in  which  he  concurs. 
The  truth  of  the  above  remark  has  been  exemplified  in  this 
country,  in  the  etVects  of  that  wise  regulation  which  transferred 
the  trial  of  parliamentary  elections  from  the  House  of  Commons 
at  large  to  a  select  committee  of  that  bouse,  composed  of  thir- 


OF  JUSTICE.  36'3 

^t.e en' members.  This  alteration,  simply  by  reducing  the  num- 
ber of  the  judges,  and,  in  consequence  of  that  reduction,  expos- 
ing the  judicial  conduct  of  each  to  public  animadversion,  has  giv- 
en to  a  judicature,  which  had  been  long  swayed  by  interest  and 
solicitation,  the  solemnity  and  virtue  of  the  most  upright  tribu- 
nals.— I  should  prefer  an  even  to  an  odd  number  of  judges,  and 
tour  to  almost  any  other  number  :  for  in  this  number,  beside  that 
it  sufficiently  consults  the  idea  of  separate  responsibilit}^,  nothing 
can  be  decided  but  by  a  majority  of  three  to  one  :  and  when  we 
consider  that  every  decision  establishes  a  perpetual  precedent, 
we  shall  allow  that  it  ought  to  proceed  from  an  authority  not  less 
than  this.  II'  the  court  be  equally  divided,  nothing  is  done  ; 
things  remain  as  they  were  ;  with  some  inconveniency,  indeed, 
to  the  parties,  but  without  the  danger  to  the  public  of  a  hasty 
precedent. 

A  fourth  requisite  in  the  constitution  of  a  court  of  justice,  and 
equivalent  to  many  checks  upon  the  discretion  of  judges,  is,  that 
its  proceedings  be  carried  on  in  public,  apertis  foribus  ;  not  on- 
ly before  a  promiscuous  concourse  of  by-standers,  but  in  the  au- 
dience of  the  whole  profession  of  the  law.  The  opinion  of  the 
bar  concerning  what  passes,  will  be  impartial  ;  and  will  com- 
monly guide  that  of  the  public.  The  most  corrupt  judge  will 
fear  to  indulge  his  dishonest  wishes  in  the  presence  of  such  aii 
assembly  :  he  must  encounter,  what  ievf  can  support,  the  censure 
of  his  equals  and  companions,  together  with  the  indignation  and 
reproaches  of  his  country. 

Something  is  also  gained  to  the  public  by  appointyig  two  or 
three  courts  of  concurrent  jurisdiction,  that  it  may  remain  in  the 
option  of  the  suitor  to  which  he  will  resort.  By  this  means,  a 
tribunal  which  may  happen  to  be  occupied  by  ignorant  or  sus- 
pected judges,  will  be  deserted  for  others  that  possess  more  of 
the  confidence  of  the  nation. 

But,  lastly.  If  several  courts,  co-ordinate  to  and  independent 
-iof  each  other,  subsist  together  in  the  country,  it  seems  necessa- 
ify  that  the  appeals  from  all  of  them  should  meet  and  terminate 


SUi  Of  JUSTIOK. 

ill  tlie  same  judicature  ;  in  order  that  one  supreme  tribunal,  by 
whose  final  sentence  all  others  are  bound  and  concluded,  may 
superintend  and  preside  over  the  rest.  This  constitution  is  ne- 
cessary for  two  purposes  ;^-to  preserve  an  uniformity  in  the  de- 
cisions of  inferior  courts,  and  to  maintain  to  each  the  proper 
limits  of  its  jurisdiction.  Without  a  common  superior,  different 
courts  might  establish  contradictory  rules  of  adjudication,  and 
the  contradiction  be  final  and  without  remedy  ;  the  same  ques- 
tion might  receive  opposite  determinations,  apcording  as  it  was 
brought  before  one  court  or  another,  and  the  determination  i» 
each  be  ultimate  and  irreversible.  A  common  appellant  jurisr 
diction  prevents  or  puts  an  end  to  this  confusion.  For  when  the 
judgments  upon  appeals  are  consistent  (which  may  be  expected, 
whilst  it  is  the  same  court  which  is  at  last  resorted  to,)  the  dif- 
ferent courts,  from  which  the  appeals  are  brought,  will  be  re- 
duced to  a  like  consistency  with  one  another.  Moreover,  if 
questions  arise  between  courts,  independent  of  each  other,  con- 
cerning the  extent  and  boundaries  of  their  respective  jurisdiction, 
as  each  will  be  desirous  of  enlarging  its  own,,  an  authority  which 
both  acknowledge  can  alone  adjust  the  controversy.  Such  a 
power,  therefore,  roust  reside  somewhere,  lest  the  rights  and  re- 
pose of  the  country  be  distracted  by  the  endless  opposition  and 
mutual  encroachments  of  its  courts  of  justice. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  judicature  ;  the  one  where  the  olTice 
of  the  judge  is  permanent  in  the  same  person,  and  consequently 
where  the  judge  is  appointed  and  known  long  before  the  trial  ; 
the  other,  where  the  judge  is  determined  by  lot  at  the  time  of 
the  trial,  and  for  that  turn  only.  The  one  may  be  called  a  j?a- 
ed,  the  other  a  cas!ia/ judicature.  From  the  former  may  be  ex- 
pected those  qualifications  which  are  preferred  and  sought  for 
in  the  choice  of  judges,  and  that  knowledge  and  readiness  which 
result  from  experience  in  the  office.  But  then,  as  the  judge  is 
Known  beforehand,  he  is  accessible  to  the  parties  ;  there  exists 
a  possibility  of  secret  management  and  undue  practices  :  or, 
Ia  pontests  belwcep  the  crown  and  the  subject,  the  judge  ap- 


OF  JUSTICE.  365 

pointed  by  the  crown  may  be  suspected  of  partiality  to  his 
patron,  or  of  entertaining  inclinations  favourable  to  the  authority 
/rora  which  he  derives  his  own.  The  advantage  attending  the 
second  kind  of  judicature,  is  indifferency  ;  the  defect,  the  want 
^f  that  legal  science  which  produces  uniformity  and  justice  in 
legal  descisions.  The  construction  of  English  courts  of  law,  in 
twhich  causes  are  tried  by  a  jury,  vviUi  the  assistance  of  a  judge, 
combines  the  two  species  together  with  peculiar  success.  This 
admirable  contrivance  unites  the  wisdom  of  a  fixed  with  the  in- 
tegrity of  a  casual  judicature  ;  and  avoids,  in  a  great  measure, 
the  inconveniences  of  both.  The  judge  impartii  to  the  jury  the 
benefit  of  his  erudition  and  experience  ;  the  jury,  by  their  dis- 
interestedness, check  any  corrupt  partialities  which  previous  ap- 
plication may  have  produced  in  the  judge.  If  the  determination 
ivas  left  to  the  judge,  the  party  might  suffer  under  the  superior 
interest  of  his  adversary  :  if  it  was  left  to  an  uninstructed  jury, 
Lis  rights  would  be  in  still  greater  danger,  from  the  ignorance  of 
those  who  were  to  decide  upon  them.  The  present  wise  ad- 
mixture of  chance  and  choice  in  the  constitution  of  the  court  in 
\vhich  his  cause  is  tried,  guards  him  equally  against  the  fear  oi 
injury  from  either  of  these  causes. 

In  proportion  to  the  acknpwledgcd  excellency  of  this  mode  of 
trial,  every  deviation  from  it  ought  to  be  watched  with  vigilance^ 
and  admitted  by  the  legislature  with  caution  and  reluctance. 
Summary  convictions  before  justices  of  the  peace,  especially  for 
offences  against  the  game  laws  ;  courts  of  conscience  ;  extending 
the  jurisdiction  of  courts  of  equity  ;  urging  too  far  the  distinction 
between  questions  of  law  and  matters  of  fact  ; — are  all  so  many 
infringements  upon  this  great  charter  of  public  safety. 

Nevertheless,  the  trial  by  jury  is  sometimes  found  inadequate  to 
ihe  administration  of  equal  justice.  This  imperfection  takes  place 
chiefly  in  disputes  in  which  some  popular  passion  or  prejudice  in- 
tervenes ;  as  where  a  particular  order  of  men  advance  claims 
upon  the  rest  of  the  cou:imunity.  which  is  the  case  of  the  clergy 
contending  for  tithes  ;  or  where  an  order  of  men  are  obnoxious 


366  OF  JUSTICE. 

by  their  profession,  as  are  officers  of  the  revenue,  bailifis,  bailiff's 
followers,  and  other  low  ministers  of  the  law  ;  or  where  one  of 
the  parties  has  an  interest  in  common  with  the  general  interest 
of  the  jurors,  and  that  of  the  other  is  opposed  to  it,  as  in  contests, 
between  landlords  and-  tenants  ;  between  lords  of  manors  and 
the  holders  of  estates  under  them  ;  or,  lastly,  where  the  minds 
of  men  are  inflamed  by  political  dissensions  or  religious  hatred. 
These  prejudices  act  most  powerfully  upon  the  common  people  ; 
of  which  order  juries  are  made  up.  The  force  and  danger  of 
them  are  also  increased  by  the  very  circumstance  of  taking  ju- 
ries out  of  the  county  in  which  the  subject  of  dispute  arises.  In 
the  neighbourhood  of  the  parties,  the  cause  is  often  prejudged  : 
and  these  secret  decisions  of  the  mind  proceed  commonly  more 
upon  sentiments  of  favour  or  hatred, — upon  some  opinion  con- 
cerning the  sect,  family,  profession,  character,  connexions,  or 
circumstances  of  the  parties, — than  upon  any  knowledge  or  dis- 
cussion of  the  proper  merits  of  the  question.  More  exact  jus- 
tice would,  in  many  instances,  be  rendered  to  the  suitors,  if  the 
determination  were  left  entirely  to  the  judges  ;  provided  we 
could  depend  upon  the  same  purity  of  conduct,  when  the  pqwer 
of  these  magistrates  was  enlarged,  which  they  have  long  mani- 
fested in  the  exercise  of  a  mixed  and  restrained  authority.  But 
this  is  an  experiment  too  big  with  public  danger  to  be  hazarded. 
The  effects,  however,  of  some  local  prejudices,  miglit  be  safely 
obviated  by  a  Jaw  empowering  the  court,  in  which  the  action  is 
'brought,  to  send  the  cause  to  trial  in  a  distant  county  ;  the  ex- 
penses attending  the  change  of  place  always  falling  upon  the 
party  who  applied  for  it. 

There  is  a  second  division  of  courts  of  justice,  whifch  presents 
a  new  alternative  of  difficulties.  Either  one,  two,  or  a  few  sove- 
reign courts  may  be  erected  in  the  metropolis,  for  the  whole 
kingdom  to  resort  to  ;  or  courts  of  local  jurisdiction  may  be  fixed 
in  the  various  provinces  and  districts  of  the  empire.  Great, 
though  opposite,  inconveniences  attend  each  arrangement.  If 
Hie  court  be  remote  and  solemn,,  it  becomes,  by  these  very  qual- 


OF  JUSTICE.  367 

ities,  expensive  and  dilatory  :  the  expense  is  unavoidably  in- 
creased when  witnesses,  parties,  and  agents,  must  be  brought  to 
attend  from  distant  parts  of  die  country  :  and,  where  the  whole 
judicial  business  of  a  large  nation  is  collected  into  a  iew  superi- 
or tribunals,  it  will  be  found  impossible,  even  if  the  prolixity  of 
forfns  which  retards  the  progress  of  causes  were  removed,  to  give 
a  prom^it  hearing  to  every  complaint,  or  an  immediate  answer 
to  any.  On  the  other  hand,  if,  to  remedy  these  evils,  and  to 
render  the  administration  of  justice  cheap  and  speedy,  domestic 
and  summary  tribunals  be  erected  in  each  neighbourhood,  the 
advantage  of  such  courts  will  be  accompained  with  all  the  dan- 
gers of  ignorance  and  partiality,  and  with  the  certain  mischief  of 
confusion  and  contrariety  in  their  decisions.  The  law  of  Eng- 
land, by  its  circuit,  or  itinerary  courts,  contains  a  provision  for 
the  distribution  of  private  justice,  in  a  great  measure  relieved 
from  both  these  objections.  As  the  presiding  magistrate  comes 
into  the  country  a  stranger  to  its  prejudices,  rivalships,  and  con- 
nexions, he  brings  with  him  none  of  those  attachments  and  re- 
gards, which  are  so  apt  to  pervert  the  course  of  justice,  when 
the  parties  and  the  judges  inhabit  the  same  neighbourhood.  A- 
gain,  as  this  magistrate  is  usually  one  of  the  judges  of  the  su- 
preme tribunals  of  the  kingdom,  and  has  passed  his  life  in  the 
study  and  administration  of  the  laws,  he  possesses,  it  may  be 
presumed,  those  professional  qualifications,  which  befit  the  dig- 
nity and  importance  of  his  station.  Lastly,  as  both  he,  and  the 
advocates  who  accompany  him  in  his  circuit,  are  employed  in 
the  business  of  (hose  superior  courts  (to  which  also  their  pro- 
ceedings are  amenable,)  they  will  naturally  conduct  themselves 
by  the  rules  of  adjudication  which  they  have  applied  or  learned 
there  ;  and  by  this  means  maintain,  what  constitutes  a  principal 
perfection  of  civil  government,  one  law  of  the  land  in  every 
part  and  district  of  the  empire. 

Next  to  the  constitution  of  courts  of  justice,  we  are  naturally  led 
to  consider  the  maxims  which  ought  to  guide  their  proceedings  ; 
and,  upon  this  subject,  the  chief  inquiry  w  ill  be,  how  far,  and  fov 


36{i  OF  jysTicii. 

^vhat  reasons,  it  i?  expedieivl  to  adhere  to  former  delerniinations  j 
or  whether  it  be  necessary  forjudges  to  attend  to  any  other  con- 
sideration than  the  apparent  and  particular  equity  of  the  case 
before  them.  Now,  although  to  assert,  that  precedents  estab- 
lished by  one  set  of  judges  ought  to  be  incontrovertible  by  their 
successors  in  the  same  jurisdiction,  or  by  tliose  who  exercise  a 
higher,  would  be  to  attribute  the  sentence  of  those  judges  all 
the  authority  we  ascribe  to  the  most  solemn  acts  of  the  legisla- 
ture ;  yet  the  general  security  of  private  rights,  and  of  civil  life, 
requires  that  such  precedents,  especially  if  they  have  been  con- 
firmed by  repeated  adjudications,  should  not  be  overthrown, 
without  a  detection  of  manifest  error,  or  without  some  imputation 
of  dishonesty  upon  the  court  by  whose  judgment  the  question 
was  first  decided.  And  this  deference  to  prior  decisions  is  found- 
ed upon  two  reasons  ;  first,  that  the  discretion  of  judges  may  be 
bound  down  by  positive  rules  ;  and,  secondly,  that  the  subject, 
upon  every  occasion  in  which  his  legal  interest  is  concerned,  maj' 
know  beforehand  how  to  act,  and  what  to  expect.  To  set  judges 
free  from  any  obligation  to  conform  themselves  to  the  decisions  of 
their  predecessors,  would  be  to  lay  open  a  latitude  of  judging, 
with  which  no  description  of  men  can  safely  be  entrusted  ;  it 
would  be  to  allow  space  for  the  exercise  of  those  concealed  par- 
tialities, which,  since  they  cannot  by  any  human  policy  be  ex- 
cluded, ought  to  be  confined  by  boundaries  and  fand-marks.  It 
is  in  vain  to  allege,  that  the  superintendency  of  parliament  is  al- 
ways at  hand  to  control  and  punish  abuses  of  judicial  discretion. 
By  what  rules  can  parliament  proceed  ?  How  shall  they  pro- 
nounce a  decision  to  be  wrong,  where  there  exists  no  acknowledg- 
ed measure  or  standard  of  what  is  right  ;  which,  in  a  multitude 
of  instances,  would  be  the  case,  if  prior  determinations  were  no 
longer  to  be  appealed  to  ? 

Diminishing  the  danger  of  partiality,  is  One  thing  gained  by 
adhering  to  precedents  ;  but  not  the  principal  thing.  The  sub- 
ject of  every  system  of  laws  must  expect  that  decision  in  his  own 
case,  which  he  knows  that  others  havo  received  in  cases  similav 


OF  JUSTICE.  339 

lo  his.  If  he  expect  not  this,  he  can  expect  nothing.  There 
exists  no  other  rule  or  principle  of  reasoning,  by  which  he  can 
ibretel,  or  even  conjecture,  the  event  of  a  judicial  contest.  To 
remove  therefore  the  grounds  of  this  expectation,  by  rejecting 
the  force  and  authority  of  precedents,  is  to  entail  upon  the  sub- 
ject the  worst  property  of  slavery, — -to  have  no  assurance  of  his 
rights  or  knowledge  of  his  duty.  But  the  quiet  of  the  country, 
as  well  as  the  confidence  and  satisfaction  of  each  man's  mind, 
requires  uniformity  in  judicial  proceedings.  Nothing  quells  a 
spirit  of  litigation  like  despair  of  success  ;  therefore  nothing  so 
completely  puts  an  end  to  litigation  as  a  rigid  adherence  to  known 
rules  of  adjudication.  Whilst  the  event  is  uncertain,  which  it 
ever  must  be,  whilst  it  is  uDcertain  whether  former  determina- 
tions upon  the  same  subject  will  be  followed  or  not,  law-suit?? 
will  be  endless  and  innumerable  :  men  will  continually  engage 
ill  them,  either  from  the  hope  qf  prevailing  in  their  claims,  which 
the  smallest  chance  is  sufficient  to  encourage  ;  or  with  the  design 
of  intimidating  their  adversary  by  the  terrors  of  a  dubious  liti- 
gation. When  justice  is  rendered  to  the  parties,  only  half  the 
business  of  a  court  of  justice  is  done  :  the  more  important  part 
of  its  office  remains  ;^-to  put  an  end,  for  the  future,  to  every 
fear,  and  quarrel,  and  expense  upon  the  same  point  ;  and  so  to 
regulate  its  proceedings,  that  not  only  a  doubt  once  decided  may 
be  stirred  no  more,  but  tiiat  the  whole  train  of  law-suits,  which 
issue  from  one  uncertainty,  may  die  with  the  parent  question. 
Now,  this  advantage  can  only  be  attained  by  considering  each 
decision  as  a  direction  to  succeeding  judges.  And  it  shoald  be 
observed,  that  every  departure  from  former  determinations,  eS' 
pecially  if  they  have  been  often  repeated  or  long  submitted  to, 
shakes  the  stability  of  ail  legal  title.  It  is  not  fixing  a  point 
anew  ;  it  is  leaving  every  thing  unfixed.  For  by  the  same  stretch 
of  power  by  which  the  present  race  of  judges  take  upon  them  to 
contradict  the  judgment  of  their  predecessors,  those  wIjo  try  the 
question  next,  may  set  aside  theirs. 
From  an  adherence  however  to  precedents,  by  which  so  much  13 
47 


570  OF  JUSTICE. 

gained  to  the  public,  two  consequences  aiise  wliicli  are  ot'tcn  la- 
mented ;  the  hardship  of  particular  determinations,  and  the  intri- 
cacy of  the  law  as  a  science.  To  the  first  of  these  complaints,  we 
liiust  apply  this  reflection  ; — "  That  uniformity  is  of  more  im- 
"  portancc  than  equity,  in  proportion  as  a  general  uncertainty 
"  would  be  a  greater  evil  than  particular  injustice."  The  sec- 
ond is  attended  with  no  greater  inconveniency  than  that  of  erect- 
ing the  j^ractice  of  the  law  into  a  separate  profession  :  which 
this  reason,  we  allow,  makes  necessary  ;  for  if  we  attribute  so 
much  authority  to  precedents,  it  is  expedient  that  they  be  known, 
in  every  cause,  both  to  the  advocates  and  to  the  judge  :  this 
knowledge  cannot  be  general,  since  it  is  the  fruit  oftentimes  of 
laborious  research,  or  demands  a  memory  stored  with  long-col- 
lected erudition. 

To  a  mind  revolving  upon  the  subject  of  human  jurisprudence, 
there  frequei^tly  occurs  this  question  ; — Why,  since  the  maxiots 
of  natural  justice  are  few  and  evident,  do  there  arise  so  manv 
doubts  and  controversies  in  the  application  ?  Or,  in  other  words, 
how  comes  it  to  pass,  that  although  the  principles  of  the  law  of 
nature  bo  simple  and  ?or  the  most  part  sufficiently  obvious,  there 
should  exist  nevertheless,  in  every  system  of  municipal  laws,  and 
m  the  actual  administration  of  relative  justice,  numerous  uncer- 
tainties and  acknowledged  difficulties  ?  Whence,  it  may  be  ask- 
ed, so  much  room  fur  litigation,  and  so  many  subsisting  disputes, 
ii  the  lu-les  of  human  duly  be  neither  obscure  nor  dubious  ?  If 
a  system  of  morality,  containing  both  the  precepts  of  revelation, 
and  the  deductions  of  reason,  may  be  cwmprised  within  the  com- 
pass of  one  moderate  volume  ;  and  the  moralist  be  able,  as  hie 
pretends,  to  describe  the  rights  and  obligatiops  of  mankind,  in  all 
the  dilferent  relations  they  may  hold  to  one  another  ;.  what  need 
of  those  codes  of  j)ositive  and  particular  institutions,  of  those 
tomes  of  statutes  and  reports,  Avhich  require  the  employment  of 
a  long  life  oven  to  peruse  ?  ;Aiid  this  question  is  immediately 
connected  with  the  argument  which  has  been  discussed  in  the 
preceding  paragraph  ;  for,  unless  there  be  found  some  greater 


OF  JUSTICE.  371 

uncertainty  in  tlic-  law  ot  nature,  or  what  may  be  called  natural 
equity,  when  it  comes  to  be  applied  to  real  cases  and  to  actual 
adjudication,  than  what  appears  in  the  rules  and  principles  of  the 
science,  as  delivered  in  the  writings  of  those  who  treat  of  the 
T^ubject,  it  were  better  that  the  determination  of  every  cause 
should  be  left  to  the  conscience  of  the  judge,  unfettered  by  pre- 
cedents and  authorities  ;  since  the  very  purpose  for  which  these 
are  introduced,  is  to  give  a  certainty  to  judicial  proceedings, 
which  such  proceedings  would  want  without  them. 

Now,  to  account  for  the  existence  of  so  many,  sources  of  liti- 
gation, notwithstanding  the  clearness  and  perfection  of  natural 
justice,  it  should  be  observed,  in  the  first  place,  that  treatises  of 
morality  always  suppose  facts  to  be  ascertained  ;  and  not  only 
so,  but  the  intention  likewise  of  the  parties  to  be  known  and  laid 
bare.  For  example,  when  we  pronounce  that  promises  ought  to 
be  fulfilled  in  that  sense  in  which  the  promiser  apprehended,  at 
the  time  of  making  the  promise,  the  other  party  received  and 
understood  it  ;  the  apprehension  of  one  side,  and  the  expecta- 
iion  of  the  other,  must  be  discovered,  before  this  rule  can  be  re- 
duced to  practice,  or  applied  to  the  determination  of  any  actual 
dispute.  Wherefore  the  discussion  of  facts  which  the  moralist 
supposes  to  be  settled,  the  discovery  of  intention:^  which  he  pre- 
sumes to  be  known,  still  icmain  to  exercise  the  inquiry  of  courts 
of  justice.  And  as  these  facts  and  intentions  are  often  to  be  in- 
ferred, or  rather  conjectured,  from  obscure  indications,  from  sus- 
picious testimony,  or  from  a  comparison  of  opposite  and  con- 
lending  probabilities,  they  afforded  a  never-failing  supply  of 
doubt  and  litigation.  For  which  reason,  as  hath  been  observed 
in  a  former  part  of  this  Work,  the^science  of  morality  is  to  be 
considered  rather  as  a  direction  to  the  parties,  who  are  conscious 
of  their  own  thoughts,  and  motives,  and  designs,  and  to  which 
consciousness  the  teacher  of  morality  constantly  appeals,  than  as 
a  guide  to  the  judge,  or  to  any  third  person,  whose  arbitration 
must  proceed  upon  rules  of  evidence,  and  maxims  of  euedibilit}',, 
with  which  the  moralist  has  no  concern. 


372  OF  JUSTICE. 

Secondly,  There  exists  a  multitude  of  cases,  in  which  the  law 
of  nature,  that  is,  the  law  of  public  expediency,  prescribes  noth- 
ing, except  that  some  certain  rule  be  adhered  to,  and  that  the 
rule  actually  established  be  preserved  ;  it  either  being  indiffer- 
ent what  rule  obtains,  or,  out  of  many  rules,  no  one  being  so 
much  more  advantageous  than  the  rest,  as  to  recompense  the  in- 
conveniency  of  an  alteration.  In  all  such  cases,  the  law  of  na- 
ture sends  us  the  law  of  the  land.  She  directs  either  that  some 
fixed  rule  be  introduced  by  an  act  of  the  legislature,  or  that  the 
rule  which  accident,  or  cuslom,  or  common  consent,  hath  already 
established,  be  steadily  maintained.  Thus,  in  the  descent  of 
lands,  or  the  inheritance  of  personals  from  intestate  proprietors, 
whether  the  kindred  of  the  grand -mother,  or  of  the  great-grand- 
mother, shall  be  preferred  in  the  succession  ;  whether  the  de- 
gr.ees  of  consanguinity  shall  be  computed  through  the  common 
ancestor,  or  from  him  ;  whether  the  widow  shall  lake  a  third  or 
a  moiety  of  her  husband's  fortune  ;  whether  sons  shall  be  pre- 
ferred to  daughters,  or  the  elder  to  the  younger  ;  whether  the 
dsstinction  of  age  ^hall  be  regarded  amongst  sisters,  as  well  as 
between  brothers  ;  in  these,  and  in  a  great  variety  of  cjuestions 
which  the  same  subject  supplies,  the  law  of  nature  determines 
nothing.  The  only  answer  she  returns  to  our  inquiries  is,  that 
some  certain  and  general  rule  be  laid  down  by  public  authority  ; 
be  obeyed  when  laid  down  ;  and  that  the  quiet  of  the  country 
be  not  disturbed,  nor  the  expectation  of  heirs  frustrated,  by  ca- 
pricious innovations.  This  silence  or  neutrality  of  the  law  of 
nature,  which  we  have  exemplified  in  tlie  case  of  intestacy,  holds 
concerning  a  great  part  of  the  questions  that  icJalc  to  the  right 
or  acquisition  of  property.  Recourse;  then,  must  necessarily  be 
had  to  statutes,  or  precedents,  or  usage,  to  fix  what  the  law  of 
nature  has  left  loose.  The  interpretation  cf  these  statutes^  the 
search  after  precedents,  the  investigation  of  custom,  compose 
therefore  an  unavoidable,  and  at  the  same  time  a  large  and  in- 
tricate portion  of  forensic  business.  Positive  constitutions  or  ju- 
dicial authorities  are.  in  like  manner,  wanted  to  give  piecision 


OF  JUSTICE.  573 

ho  many  things  which  are  in  their  nature  indeterminats.  Thq 
age  of  legal  discretion  ;  at  which  time  of  life  a  person  shall  be 
deemed  competent  to  the  performance  of  any  act  which  may 
(Jiind  his  property  ;  whether  at  twenty,  or  twenty-one,  or  earlier 
or  later,  or  at  some  point  of  time  between  these  years,  can  only 
be  ascertained  by  a  positive  Eule  of  the  society  to  which  the  par- 
ty belongs.  The  line  has  not  been  drawn  by  nature, — the  hu- 
man understanding  advancing  to  maturity  by  insensible  degrees, 
and  its  progress  varying  in  different  individuals.  Yet  it  is  ne- 
cessary, for  the  sake  of  mutual  security,  that  a  precise  age  be 
fixed,  and  that  what  is  fixed  be  known  to  all.  It  is  on  these  oc- 
casions that  the  intervention  of  law  supplies  the  inconstancy  of 
nature.  Again,  there  are  other  things  which  are  perfectly  arbi- 
trary^ and  capable  of  no  certainty  but  what  is  given  to  them  by 
positive  regulation.  It  is  necessary  that  a  limited  time  should 
be  assigned  to  defendants,  to  plead  to  the  complaints  alleged 
against  them  ;  and  also  that  the  default  of  pleading  within  a  cer- 
tain time  should  be  taken  for  a  confession  of  the  charge  ;  but  to 
how  many  days  or  months  that  term  should  be  extended,  though 
necessary  to  be  known  with  certainty,  cannot  be  known  at  all  by 
any  information  which  the  law  of  nature  affords.  And  the  same 
remark  seems  applicable  to  almost  all  those  rules  of  proceeding 
which  constitute  what  is  called  the  practice  of  the  court  ;  as  they 
cannot  be  traced  out  by  reasoning,  they  must  be  settled  by  au- 
thority. 

Thirdly,  In  contracts,  whether  express  or  implied,  which  in- 
volve a  great  number  of  conditions  ;  as  in  those  which  are  en- 
tered into  between  masters  and  servants,  principals  and  agents  ; 
many  also  of  merchandise,  or  for  works  of  art  ;  in  some  likewise 
which  relate  to  the  negociation  of  money  or  bills,  or  to  the  ac- 
ceptance of  credit  or  security  ;  the  original  design  and  expecta- 
tion of  the  parties  was,  that  both  sides  should  be  guided  by  the 
course  and  custom  of  the  country  in  transactions  of  the  same  sort. 
Consequently,  when  these  contracts  come  to  be  disputed,  natural 
justice  can  only  refer  to  that  custom.     But  as  such  customs  are 


374  OF  JUSTICE. 

not  always  sulTicienlly  uniioroi  or  notorious,  but  often  to  be  col- 
lected from  the  production  and  comparison  of  instances  and  ac- 
counts repugnant  to  one  another  ;  and  each  custom  being  only 
that,  after  all,  which,  amongst  a  variety  of  usajie.-,  seems  to  pre- 
dominate, we  have  here  also  ample  room  for  doubt  and  contest. 
Fourthly,  As  the  law  of  nature,  founded  in  the  very  construc- 
tion of  human  society,  which  is  formed  to  endure  through  a  se- 
ries a  perishing  generations,  requires  that  the  just  engagements  a 
man  enters  into  should  continue  in  force  beyond  his  own  life  ;  it 
follows,  that  the  private  rights  of  persons  frequently  depend  up- 
on what  has  been  transacted,  in  times  remote  from  the  present, 
by  their  ancestors  or  predecessors,  by  those  under  whom  they 
claim,  or  to  whose  obligations  they  have  succeeded.  Thus  the 
questions  which  usually  arise  between  lords  of  manors  and  their 
tenants,  between  the  king  and  those  who  claim  royal  franchises, 
or  between  them  and  the  persons  affected  by  these  franchises, 
depend  upon  the  terms  of  the  original  grant.  In  like  manner, 
every  dispute  concerning  tithes,  in  which  an  exemption  or  com- 
position is  pleaded,  depends  upon  the  agreement  which  took 
place  between  the  predecessor  of  the  claimant  and  the  ancient 
owner  of  the  land.  The  appeal  to  these  grant.';  and  agreements 
is  dictated  by  natural  equity,  as  well  as  by  the  municipal  law  : 
but  concerning  the  existence,  or  the  conditions,  of  such  old  cov- 
enants, doubts  will  perpetually  occur,  to  which  the  law  of  nature 
affords  no  solution.  The  loss  or  decay  of  records,  the  perisha- 
bloness  of  living  memory,  the  corruption  and  carelessness  of 
tradition,  all  conspire  to  multiply  uncertainties  upon  this  head  ; 
what  cannot  be  produced  or  proved,  must  be  left  to  loose  and 
fallible  presumption.  Under  the  same  head  may  be  included 
another  topic  of  altercation, — the  tracing  out  of  boundaries, 
which  time,  or  neglect,  or  unity  of  possession,  or  mixture  of  oc- 
cupation, have  founded  or  obliterated.  To  which  should  be  add- 
ed, a  difficulty  which  often  presents  itself  in  disputes  concerning 
rights  of  xs;aij,  both  public  and  private,  and  of  those  easements 
which  one  man  claims  in  another  r'nan's  property  ;  namely,  that 


OF  JUSTICE.  S75 

of  distinguishing,  after  a  lapse  of  years,  the  use  of  an  indulgence 
from  the  exercise  of  a  right. 

Fifthly,  The  quantity  or  extent  of  an  injury,  even  when  the 
cause  and  author  of  it  are  known,  is  often  dubious  and  undefined. 
If  the  injury  consist  in  the  loss  of  some  specific  right,  the  value 
of  the  right  measures  the  amount  of  the  injury  :  but  what  a  man 
may  have  suffered  in  hi;3  person,  from  an  assault  ;  in  his  reputa- 
tion, by  slander  ;  or  in  the  comfort  of  his  life,  by  the  seduction  of  a 
wife  or  daughter  ;  or  wiiat  sum  of  money  shall  be  deemed  a  re- 
paration for  the  damage,  cannot  be  ascertained  by  any  rules 
H'hich  the  law  of  nature  supplies.  The  law  of  nature  commands, 
that  reparation  be  made  ;  and  adds  to  her  command,  that,  when 
the  aggressor  and  the  sufferer  disagree,  the  damage  be  assessed  by 
authorized  and  indifferent  arbitrators.  Here  then  recourse  must 
be  had  to  courts  of  law,  not  only  with  the  permission,  but  in  some 
measures  by  the  direction,  of  natural  justice. 

Sixthly,  When  controversies  arise  in  the  interpretation  of 
written  laws,  they  for  the  most  part  arise  upon  some  contingen- 
cy wliich  the  composer  of  the  law  did  not  foresee  or  think  of. 
In  the  adjudication  of  such  cases,  this  dilemma  presents  itself; 
if  the  laws  be  permitted  to  operate  only  upon  the  cases  which 
were  actually  contemplated  by  the  law-makers,  they  will  al- 
ways be  found  defective  ;  if  they  be  extended  to  every  case  to 
which  the  reasoning,  and  spirit,  and  expediency  of  the  provision 
seem  to  belong,  without  any  further  evidence  of  the  intention  of 
the  legislature,  we  shall  allow  to  the  judges  a  liberty  of  apply- 
ing the  law,  which  will  fall  very  little  short  of  the  power  of  ma- 
king it.  If  a  literal  construction  be  adhered  to,  the  law  will  of- 
ten fail  of  its  end  ;  if  a  loose  and  vague  exposition  be  admitted, 
the  law  might  as  well  have  never  been  enacted  ;  for  this  licence 
will  bring  back  into  the  subject  all  the  uncertainty  which  it  was 
the  design  of  the  legislature  to  take  av5:ay.  Courts  of  justice  are, 
and  always  must  be,  e-nbarrassed  by  these  opposite  difficulties  j 
and,  as  it  can  never  be  known  beforehand,  in  what  degree  either 
consideration  inay  prevail  in  the  mind  of  the  judge,  there  re- 
mains an  unavoidable  cause  of  doubt,  and  a  place  for  contention., 


376  OF  JUSTICE. 

Seventhly,  The  deliberations  of  courts  of  justice  upon  every 
neiisj  question,  are  encumbered  with  additional  difficulties,  in  con- 
sequence of  the  authority  which  the  judgment  of  the  court  pos- 
sesses, as  a  precedent  to  future  judicatures  ;  which  authority 
appertains  not  only  to  the  conclusions  the  court  delivers,  but  to 
the  principles  and  arguments  upon  which  they  are  built.  The 
view  of  this  effect  makes  it  necessary  for  a  judge  to  look  be- 
yond the  case  before  him  ;  and  beside  the  attention  he  owes  to 
the  truth  and  justice  of  the  cause  between  the  parties,  to  reflect 
whether  the  principles,  and  maxims,  and  reasoning,  which  he 
adopts  and  authorizes,  can  be  applied  with  safety  to  all  cases 
which  admit  of  a  comparison  with  the  present.  The  decision  of 
the  cause,  were  the  effects  of  the  decision  to  stop  there,  migl'.t 
be  easy  ;  but  the  consequence  of  establishing  the  principle, 
which  such  a  decision  assumes,  may  be  difficult,  though  of  ths 
utmost  importance,  to  be  foreseen  and  regulated. 

Finally,  After  all  the  certainty  and  rest  that  can  be  given  to 
points  of  law,  either  by  the  interposition  of  the  legislature  or  the 
authority  of  precedents,  one  principal  source  of  disputation,  and 
into  which  indeed  the  greater  part  of  legal  controversies  may  be 
resolvedj  will  remain  still-,  namely,  "  the  competition  of  opposite 
"  analogies."  When  a  point  of  law  has  been  once  adjudged, 
neither  that  question,  nor  any  which  completely  and  in  all  it.*: 
circumstances,  corresponds  with  that,  can  be  brought  a  second 
time  into  dispute  :  but  questions  arise,  which  resemble  this  only 
indirectly  and  in  part,  in  certain  views  and  circumstances,  and 
which  may  seem  to  bear  an  equal  or  a  greater  affinity  to  other  ad- 
judged cases  ;  questions  which  can  be  brought  within  any  affixed 
rule  only  by  analogy,  and  which  hold  a  relation  by  analogy  to 
different  rules.  It  is  by  the  urging  of  these  different  analogies 
that  the  contention  of  the  bar  is  carried  on  :  and  it  is  in  the  com- 
parison, adjustment,  and  reconciliation  of  them  with  one  another  ; 
in  the  discerning  of  such  distinctions,  and  in  the  framing  of  such 
a  determination,  as  may  either  save  the  various  rules  alleged  in 
the  cause,  or,  if  that  be  impossible,  may  give  up  the  weaker 


OF  JUSTICI:.  367 

analogy  to  the  stronger,  that  the  sagacity  and  wisdom  'of  the 
court  are  seen  and  exercised.  Amongst  a  thousand  instances  of 
of  this,  we  may  cite  one  of  general  notoriety,  in  the  contest  that 
has  lately  been  agitated  concerning  literary  property.  Thn 
personal  industry  which  an  author  expends  upon  the  composition 
of  his  work,  bears  so  near  a  resemblance  to  that  by  which  every 
other  kind  of  property  is  earned,  or  deserved,  or  acquired  ;  or 
rather  there  exists  such  a  correspondency  between  what  is  crea- 
ted by  the  study  of  a  man's  mind,  and  the  production  of  his  la- 
bour in  any  other  way  of  applying  it,  that  he  seems  entitled  (o 
the  same  exclusive,  assignable,  and  perpetual  right  in  iioth  ;  and 
that  right  to  the  same  protection  of  law.  This  was  the  anal- 
ogy contended  for  on  one  side.  On  the  other  hand,  a  book,  as 
to  the  author's  right  in  it,  appears  similar  to  an  inverition  of  art, 
as  a  macliine,  an  engine,  a  medicine  :  and  since  the  law  permits 
these  to  be  copied,  or  imitated,  except  where  an  exclusive  use 
or  sale  is  reserved  to  the  inventor  by  patent,  the  same  libeity 
should  be  allowed  in  the  publication  and  sale  of  books.  This 
was  the  analogy  maintained  by  the  advocates  of  an  open  trade. 
And  the  competition  of  these  opposite  analogies  constituted  the 
difficulty  of  the  case,  as  far  as  the  same  was  argued,  or  adjudged 
upon  principles  of  common  law.- — One  example  may  serve  to  il 
lustrate  our  meaning  :  but  vrhoever  takes  up  a  volume  of  Reports, 
•will  find  most  of  tire  arguments  it  contains,  capable  of  the  same 
analysis  ;  although  the  analogies,  it  must  be  coi'.fessed,  are  some- 
times so  entangled  as  not  to  be  easily  unravelled,  or  even  per- 
ceived. 

Doubtful  and  obscure  points  of  la\y  are  not,  however,  nearly 
so  numerous  as  they  are  a]>prehended  to  be.  Out  of  the  multi- 
tude of  causes  which,  in  the  course  of  each  year,  are  biought  to 
trial  in  the  metropolis,  or  upon  the  circuits,  there  are  few  in 
which  any  poiht  is  reserved  for  the  judgment  of  superior  courts. 
Yet  these  few  contain  all  the  doubts  with  which  the  law  is  charge- 
able  ;  for,  as  to  the  rest,  the  uncertainty,  as  hath  been  shown 
above,  is  not  in  the  lav*',  but  in  the  means  of  human  information. 
48 


06G  OF  JUSTICE-. 

TiiEnt  are  U\o  peculiarities  in  the  judicial  constitution  of  llu.f 
eountry,  wbich  do  nut  carry  witli  tliem  that  evidence  oi'  their  pro- 
priety which  recoinmends  almost  every  other  part  of  the  system. 
The  fii-st  of  these  is  the  rule  which  requires  that  juries  be  iinau- 
imous  in  their  verdicts.  To  expect  that  twelve  men,  taken  by 
lot  out  of  a  promiscuous  multitude,  should  agree  in  their  opinion 
upon  points  confessedly  dubious,  and  upon  which  oftentimes  the 
wisest  judgments  might  belield  in  suspense  :  or  to  suppose  that 
any  real  unavimitij,  or  change  of  opinion,  in  the  dissenting  ju- 
rors, could  be  procured  by  confining  them  until  they  all  consented 
to  the  same  verdict,  bespeaks  more  of  the  conceit  of  a  barbarous 
age,  than  of  the  policy  which  could  dictate  such  an  institution 
^s  that  of  juries.  Nevertheless,  the  effects  of  this  rule  are  not 
:!0  detrimental  as  the  rule  itself  is  unreasonable  :  In  criminal 
prosecutions,  it  operates  considerably  in  favour  of  tlie  prisoner  ; 
for  if  a  juror  find  it  necessary  to  surrender  to  the  obstinacy  of 
others,  he  will  much  more  readily  resign  his  opinion  on  the  side 
of  mercy  than  of  condemnation  :  In  civil  suits,  it  adds  weight  to 
the  direction  of  the  judge  ;  for,  when  a  conference  with  one  an- 
other does  not  seem  likely  to  produce  in  the  jury  the  agreement 
that  is  necessary,  they  will  naturally  close  their  disputes  by  a 
common  submissian^  to  the  opinion  delivered  from  the  bench. 
However,  there  seems  to  be  less  of  the  concurrence  of  separate 
judgments  in  the  same  conclusion,  consequently,  less  assurance 
that  the  concUisron  is  founded  in  reasons  of  apparent  truth  and 
justice,  than  if  the  decision  were  left  to  a  plurality,  or  to  some 
certain  majority  of  voices. 

The  second  circumstance  in  our  constitution,  which,  howev- 
er it  may  succeed  in  practice,  does  not  seem  to  have  bften  sug- 
gested by  an  intelligible  fitness  in  the  nature  of  the  thing,  is  the 
choice  that  is  made  of  the  House  of  Lords  as  a  court  of  appeal 
Oom  every  civil  court  of  judicature  in  the  kingdom  ;  and  the 
last  also  and  highest  appeal  to  which  the  subject  can  resort. 
Thare  appears  to  l^e  nothiug  in  the  constitution  of  that  assembly  ; 
in  the  ediication,  habits,  character,  or  professions  of  the  members 


OF  JUSTICE.  S6S 

^vho  compose  it ;  in  the  mode  ol  their  appointment,  or  the  right  hy 
>vhich  they  succeed  to  th^ir  places  in  it,  that  should  qualify  them 
for  this  arduous  office  ;  except,  perhaps,  that  the  elevation  ol 
their  rank  and  fortune  affords  a  security  against  the  offer  and  in- 
fluence of  small  bribes.  Officers  of  the  army  and  navy,  cour- 
tiers, ecclesiastics  ;  young  men  who  iiave  just  attained  the  age 
of  twenty-one,  and  who  have  passed  their  youth  in  the  dissipa- 
tion and  pursuits  which  commonly  accompany  the  possession  or 
inheritance  of  great  fortunes  :  country  gentlemen,  occupied  in 
the  management  of  their  estates,  or  in  the  care  of  tlieir  domestic 
concerns  and  family  interests  ;  the  greater  part  of  the  assembly 
born  to  their  station,  that  is,  placed  in  it  by  chance  ;  most  of 
the  rest  advanced  to  the  peerage  for  Services,  and  from  motives, 
utterly  unconnected  with  legal  erudition  : — these  men  compose 
the  tribunal  to  which  the  constitution  entrusts  the  interpretation 
of  her  laws,  and  the  ultimate  decision  of  ^every  dispute  between 
her  subjects.  These  are  the  men  assigned  to  review  judgments 
of  law,  pronounced  by  sages  of  the  professsion,  who  have  spent 
their  lives  in  the  study  and  practice  of  the  jurisprudence  of  their 
country.  Such  is  the  order  which  our  ancestorft  have  establish- 
ed. The  effect  only  proves  the  truth  of  this  maxim,  "That 
"  when  a  single  institution  is  extremely  dissonant  from  other 
"  parts  of  the  system  to  which  it  belongs,  it  will  always  find 
"■  some  way  of  reconciling  itself  to  the  analogy  v/hich  govern? 
"  and  pervades  the  rest."  By  constantly  placing  in  the  House 
of  Lords  some  of  the  most  eminent  and  experienced  lawyer^ 
in  the  kingdom  ;  by  calling  to  their  aid  the  advice  of  the 
judges,  when  any  abstract  question  of  law  awaits  their  determi- 
nation ;  by  the  almost  implicit  and  undisputed  deference,  which 
the  uninformed  part  of  the  house  find  it  necessary  to  pay  to  tho 
learning  of  their  colleagues,  the  appeal  to  the  House  of  Lords 
becomes  in  truth  an  appeal  to  the  collected  wisdom  of  our  su- 
preme courts  of  justice  ;  receiving,  indeed,  solemnity,  but  little, 
perhap?  of  direction  or  assistance,  from  the  presence  of  the  3?- 
^emblv  in  which  it  is  heard  and  determined. 


370  OF  Crimea 

These  however,  even  if  real,  are  minute  imperfections.  A 
politician,  who  should  sit  down  to  delineate  a  plan  lor  the  dis- 
pensation of  public  justice,  guarded  against  all  access  to  influ- 
ence and  corruption,  and  bringing  together  the  separate  advan- 
tages of  knowledge  and  impartiality,  would  find,  when  he  had 
done,  that  he  had  been  transcribing  the  judicial  constitution 
of  England.  And  it  may  teach  the  most  discontented  amongst 
us  to  acquiesce  in  the  government  of  his  country,  to  reflect,  that 
the  pure,  and  wise,  and  equal  administration  of  laws,  forms  the 
first  end  and  blessing  of  social  union  ;  and  that  this  blessing  is 
enjoyed  by  him  in  a  perfection,  which  he  will  seek  i«  vain  in  any 
other  nation  of  (he  world. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

OF  CPJMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS. 

THE  proper  end  of  human  punishment  i«,  not  the  satisfactioft 
of  justice,  but  \iie  prevention  of  crimes.  By  the  satisfaction  of 
justice,  I  moan  the  retribution  of  so  much  pain  for  so  much  guilt ; 
nhich  is  the  dispensation  we  expect  at  the  hand  of  God,  and 
which  we  are  accustomed  to  consider  as  the  order  of  things  that 
perfect  justice  dictates  and  requires,  in  what  sense,  or  wheth- 
er with  truth  in  any  sense  justice  may  be  said  to  demand  the 
punishment  of  ofiendcrs,  I  do  not  now  inquire  :  but  I  assert,  that 
this  demand  is  not  the  motive  or  occasion  of  human  punishment. 
What  would  it  be  to  the  magistrate,  that  offences  went  altogeth- 
er unpunished,  if  the  impunity  of  the  offenders  were  followed 
by  no  danger  or  prejudice  to  the  commonwealth  ?  The  fear 
lest  the  escape  of  tlie  criminal  should  encourage  him,  or  others 
by  his  example,  to  repeat  the  same  crime,  or  to  commit  differ» 
ent  crimes,  is  the  sole  consideration  which  authorizes  the  in- 
fliction of  punishment  by  human  laws.     Now  that',  whatever  it 


AND  PUNISHMENTS.  371 

be,  which' is  the  cause  and  end  of  Ihe  punishment,  ought  un- 
doubtedly to  regulate  the  measure  of  its  severity.  But  this 
cause  appears  to  be  founded,  not  in  the  guilt  of  the  ofifender, 
but  in  the  necessity  of  preventing  the  repetition  of  the  offence  : 
And  from  hence  results  the  reason,  that  crimes  are  not  by  any 
government  pun-ished  in  proportion  to  their  guilt,  nor  in  all  cases 
ought  to  be  so,  but  in  proportion  to  the  difficulty  and  the  neces- 
sity of  preventing  them.  Thus,  the  stealing  of  goods  privately 
out  of  a  shop,  may  not,  in  its  moral  quality,  be  more  criminal 
than  the  stealing  of  them  out  of  a  house  :  yet  being  equally  ne- 
cessary, and  more  difficult,  to  be  prevented,  the  law,  in  certain 
circumstances,  denounces  against  it  a  severer  punishment.  The 
crime  must  be  prevented  by  some  means  or  other ;  and  conse- 
quently, whatever  means  appear  necessary  to  this  end,  whether 
they  be  proportionable  to  the  guilt  of  the  criminal  or  not,  are 
adopted  rightly,  because  they  are  adopted  upon  the  principle: 
which  alone  justifies  the  infliction  of  punishment  at  all.  From 
the  same  consideration  it  a^lso  follows,  that  punishment  ought  not 
to  be  employed,  much  less  rendered  severe,  when  the  crime  can 
be  prevented  by  any  other  means.  Punishment  is  an  evil  to 
which  the  magistrate  resorts  only  from  its  being  necessary  to 
the  prevention  of  a  greater.  This  necessity  does  not  exist, 
when  the  end  may  be  attained,  that  is,  when  the  public  may  be 
defended  from  the  eflects  of  the  crime,  by  any  other  expedient. 
The  sanguinary  laws  which  have  been  made  against  counterfeit- 
ing or  diminishing  the  gold  coin  of  the  kingdom  might  be  just, 
until  the  method  of  detecting  the  fraud,  by  weighing  the  money, 
was  introduced  into  general  usage.  Since  that  precaution  was 
practised,  these  laws  have  slept ;  and  an  execution  under  them 
would  be  deemed  at  this  day  a  measure  of  unjustifiable  severity. 
The  same  principle  accounts  for  a  circumstance,  which  has  been 
often  censured  as  an  absurdity  in  the  penal  laws  of  this,  and  of 
most  modern  nations,  namely,  that  breaches  of  trust  are  either 
not  punished  at  all,  or  punished  with  less  rigour  than  other  frauds. 
Wherefore  is  it,  some  have  asked,  that  a  violation  of  confidence. 


372  OF  CRIMES 

which  increases  the  guilt,  sliould  mitigate  tlie  penally  ? — Tiiis 
lenitj,  or  rather  forbearance,  of  the  laws,  is  founded  in  the  most 
reasonable  distinction.     A  due  circumspection  in  the  choice  of 
the  persons  whom  they  trust ;  caution  in  limiting  the  extent  of 
that  twist ;  or  the  requiring  of  suflScient  security  for  the  faithful 
discharge  of  it,  will  Conmionly  guard  men  from  injuries  of  this 
description  :  and  Ihe  law  will  not  interpose  its  sanctions  to  pro- 
tect negligence  and  credulity,  or  to  supply  the  place  of  domes- 
tic care  and  prudence.     To  be  convinced  that  the  law  proceeds 
entirely  upon  this  consideration  we  have  only  to  observe,  that 
where  the  confidence  is  unavoidable,  where  no  practicable  vigil- 
anc^:  could  watch  the  ofifender,  as  in  the  case  of  theft  committed 
by  a  servant  in  the  shop  or  dwelling-house  of  his  master,  or  up- 
on property  to  which  he  must  necessarily  have  access,  the  sen- 
tence of  the  law  is  not  less  severe,  and  its  execution  commonly 
more  certain  and  rigorous,  than  if  no  trust  at  all  had  intervened. 
It  is  in  pursuance  of  the  same  principle,  which  pervades  indeed 
the  whole  system  of  penal  jurisprudence,  that  the  facility  with 
which  any  species  of  crimes  is  perpetrated  has  been  generally 
deemed  a  reason  for  aggravating  the  punishment.     Thus,  sheep- 
stealing,  horse-stealing,   the   stealing  of  cloth  from   tenters  or 
bleaching-grounds,  by  our  laws,  subject  the  offenders  to  sentence 
of  death  :  not  that  these  crimes  are  in  their  nature  more  heinous 
than  many  simple  felonies  which  are  punished  by  imprisonment 
or  transportation,  but  because  the  property  being  more  exposed, 
requires  the  terror  of  capitnl  punishment  to  protect  it.     This  sp- 
verity  would  be  absurd  and  unjust,  if  the  guilt  of  the  offender 
were  the  immediate  cause  and  measure  of  the  punishment  ;  but 
is  a  consistent  and  regular  consequence  of  the  supposition,  that 
the  right  of  punishment  results  from  the  necessity  of  preventing 
the  crime  :   for,  if  this  be  the  end  proposed,  the  severity  of  the 
punishment  must  be  increased  in  proportion  to  the  expediency 
and  the  difficulty  of  attaining  this  end  ;  that  is,  in  a  proportion 
compounded  of   the  mischief  of   the  crime,  and  of  the  ease 
with  which  it  is  executed.     The  difficulty  of  discovery  is  a  cir- 


AND  PUxMSHMENTS.  37;^ 

eumstance  to  be  included  in  the  same  consideration.  It  consti- 
tute§  indeed,  with  respect  to  the  crime,  the  facility  we  speak 
of.  By  hmv  much  therefore  the  detection  of  an  offender  is  more 
rare  and  uncertain,  by  so  much  the  more  severe  must  be  the 
punishment  when  he  is  detected.  Thus  the  writing  of  incendia- 
ry letters,  though  in  itself  a  pernicious  and  al«rming  injury, 
calls  for  a  more  condign  and  exemplary  punishment,  by  the  very 
obscurity  with  which  the  crime  is  committed. 

From  the  justice  of  God  we  are  taught  to  look  for  a  gradation 
of  punishment  exactly  proportioned  to  the  guilt  of  the  offender  : 
when  therefore,  in  assigning  the  degress  of  human  punishment, 
we  introduce  considerations  distinct  from  that  guilt,  and  a  pro- 
portion so  varied  by  external  circumstances,  that  equal  crimes 
frequently  undergo  unequal  punishments,  or  the  less  crime  the 
greater  ;  it  iii  natural  to  demand  the  reason  why  a  different  meas- 
ure of  punishment  should  be  expected  from  Godj  and  observed 
by  man  ;  why  that  rule,  w^iich  befits  the  absolute  and  perfect 
iustice  of _  the  Deity,  should  not  be  the  rule  which  ought  to  be 
pursued  and  imitated  by  human  laws.     The  solution  of  this  diffi- 
culty must  be  sought  for  in  those  peculiar  attributes  of  the  divine 
nature,  v.bich  distinguish  the  dispensations  of  supreme  wisdom 
from  the  proceedings  of  human  judicature.      A  Being  whose 
knowledge  penetrates  every  concealment,  from  the  operation  of 
whose  will  no  art  or  flight  can  escape,  and  in  whose  hands  pun- 
ishment is  sure  ;  such  a  Being  may  conduct  the  moral  govern- 
ment of  his  creatioit,  in  the  best  and  wisest  manner,  by  pronoun- 
cing a  law  that  every  crime  sha'l  finally  receive  a  punishment 
proportioned  to  the  guilt  which  it  contain'=^,  abstracted  from  any 
foreign  consideration  whatever;  and  may  testify  his  veracity. to 
the  spectators  of  his  judgments,  by  carrying  this  law  into  strict 
execution.     But  when  the  care  of  the  public  safety  is  entrusted 
to  men,  whose  authority  over  their  fellow-creatures  is  limited  by 
defects  of  power  and  knowledge  ;  from  whose  utmost  vigilance 
and  sagacity  the  greatest  offenders  often  lie  hid  ;  whose  wisest 
provisions  and  speediest  pursuit  may  be  eluded  by  artifice  or 


374  OF  CHIMES 

concealment  ;  a  diffeieiit  necessity,  a  new  rule  of  proceeding, 
results  from  the  very  imperfection  of  their  faculties.  In  their 
hands,  the  uncertainty  of  punishment  must  be  compensated  by 
the  severity.  The  ease  with  which  crimes  are  committed  or 
concealed,  must  be  counteracted  by  additional  penalties  and  in- 
creased terrors.  The  very  end  for  which  human  government  is 
established,  requires  that  its  regulations  be  adapted  to  the  sup- 
pression of  crimes.  This  end,  whatever  it  may  do  in  the  plans  of 
infinite  wisdom,  does  not,  in  the  designation  of  temporal  penal- 
ties, always  coincide  with  the  proportionate  punishment  of  guilt. 

There  are  two  methods  of  administering  penal  justice. 

The  first  method  assigns  capital  punishments  to  few  offences, 
and  inflicts  it  invariably. 

The  second  method  assigns  capital  punishments  to  many  kinds 
of  oflFences,  but  inflicts  it  only  upon  a  tew  examples  of  cfach  kind. 

The  latter  of  which  two  methods  has  been  long  adopted  in  this 
country,  where,  of  those  who  receive  sentence  of  death,  scarcely 
one  in  ten  is  executed.  And  the  preference  of  this  to  the  former 
method  seems  to  be  founded  in  the  consideration,  that  the  selec- 
tion of  proper  objects  for  capital  punishment  principally  depends 
upon  circumstances,  which  however  easy  to  perceive  in  each 
particular  case  after  the  crime  is  committed,  it  is  impossible  to 
enumerate  or  define  beforehand  ;  or  to  ascertain  however  with 
that  exactness,  which  is  requisite  in  legal  descripitons.  Hence, 
although  it  be  necessary  to  fix  by  precise  rules  of  law  the  boun- 
dary on  one  side,  that  is,  the  limit  to  which  the  punishment  may 
be  extended  ;  and  also  that  nothing  less  than  the  authority  of  the 
whole  legislature  be  suiFerred  to  determine  that  boundary,  and 
assign  these  rules  ;  yet  the  mitigation  of  punishment,  the  exer- 
cise of  lenity,  may  without  danger  be  entrusted  to  the  executive 
magistrate,  whose  discretion  will  operate  upon  those  numerous 
unforeseen,  mutable,  and  indefinite  circumstances,  both  of  the 
crime  and  the  criminal,  which  constitute  or  qualify  the  maligni- 
ty of  each  offence.  Without  the  power  of  relaxation  lodged  in 
a  living  authority,  eithex  some  ofi"ender3  would  escape  capital 


AND  PUNISHMENTS.  375 

|.unishmeut,  whom  the  public  safety  required  to  suffer  ;  or  some 
would  undergo  this  punishment,  where  it  was  neither  deserved 
nor  necessary.  For  if  judgment  of  death  Avere  reserved  for  one 
or  two  species  of  crimes  only  (which  would  probably  be  the 
case  if  that  judgment  was  intended  to  be  executed  without  ex- 
ception,) crimes  might  occur  of  the  most  dangerous  example, 
and  accompanied  with  circumstances  of  heinous  aggrnvation, 
which  did  not  fall  within  atuj  description  of  offences  that  the 
laws  had  made  capital,  and  which  consequently  could  not  re- 
ceive the  punishment  their  own  malignity  and  the  public  safety 
required.  What  is  worse,  it  would  be  known  beforehand,  that 
such  crimes  might  be  committed  without  danger  to  the  offend- 
er's life.  On  the  other  hand,  if,  to  reach  these  possible  cases, 
the  whole  class  of  offences  to  which  they  belong  be  subjected  to 
pains  of  death,  and  no  power  of  remitting  this  severity  remain 
any  where,  the  execution  of  the  laws  will  become  more  san- 
guinary than  the  public  compassion  would  endure,  or  than  is 
necessary  to  the  general  security. 

The  law  of  England  is  constructed  upon  a  ditferent  and  a  bet- 
ter policy.  By  the  number  of  statutes  creating  capital  offences, 
it  sweeps  into  the  net  every  crime  which,  under  any  possible  cir- 
cumstances, may  merit  the  punishment  of  death  ;  but,  when 
the  execution  of  this  sentence  comes  to  be  deliberated  upon,  a 
small  proportion  of  each  class  are  singled  out,  the  general  char- 
acter, or  the  peculiar  aggravations,  of  whose  crimes  render  them 
fit  examples  of  public  justice.  By  this  expedient,  few  actually 
suffer  death,  whilst  the  dread  and  danger  of  it  hang  over  the 
crimes  of  many.  The  tenderness  of  the  law  cannot  bd  taken 
advantage  of.  The  life  of  the  subject  is  spared  as  far  as  the 
necessity  of  restraint  and  intimidation  permits  ;  yet  no  one  will 
adventure  upon  the  commission  of  any  enormous  crime,  from 
a  knowledge  that  (he  laws  have  not  provided  for  ilg  punishment. 
The  wisdom  and  humanity  of  this  design  furnish  a  just  excuse 
for  the  muUiplicity  of  capital  offences,  which  the  laws  of  Eng- 

49 


376  OF  CRIMES 

land  arc  accused  of  creating  beyond  those  of  other  countries. 
The  charge  of  cruelty  is  answered  by  observing,  that  these 
laws' were  never  meant  to  be  carried  into  indiscriminate  execu- 
tion ;  that  the  legislature,  when  it  establishes  its  last  and  highest 
sanctions,  trusts  to  the  benignity  of  the  crown  to  relax  their  se- 
verity, as  often  as  circumstances  appear  to  palliate  the  offence, 
or  even  as  often  as  those  circumstances  of  aggravation  are  want- 
ing, which  rendered  this  rigorous  interposition  necessary.  Up- 
on this  plan,  it  is  enough  to  vindicate  the  lenity  of  the  laws, 
that  some  instances  are  to  be  found  in  each  clas-s  of  capital 
crimes,  which  require  the  restraint  of  capital  punishment,  and  that 
this  restraint  could  not  be  applied  without  subjecting  the  whole 
class  to  the  same  condemnation. 

There  is  however  one  species  of  crimes,  the  making  of  which 
capital  can  hardly,  1  think,  be  defended  even  upon  the  com- 
prehensive principle  just  now  stated  ; — I  mean  that  of  privately 
stealing  from  the  person.  As  every  degree  of  force  is  exclud- 
ed by  the  description  of  the  crime,  it  will  be  difficult  to  assign 
an-  example,  where  either  the  amount  or  circumstances  of  the 
theft  place  it  upon  a  level  with  those  dangerous  attempts  to 
which  the  punishment  of  death  should  be  confined.  It  will  be 
still  more  difficult  to  show,  that,  without  gross  and  culpable  neg- 
ligence on  the  part  of  the  sufferer,  such  examples  can  ever  be- 
come so  frequent,  as  to  make  it  necessary  to  constitute  a  class 
of  capital  offences,  of  very  wide  and  large  extent. 

The  prerogative  of  pardon  is  properly  reserved  to  the  chief 
magistrate.  The  power  of  suspending  the  laws  is  a  privilege  of 
too  high  a  nature  to  be  committed  to  many  hands,  or  to  those  of 
any  inferior  officer  in  the  state.  The  king  also  can  best  collect 
the  advice  by  which  his  resolutions  should  be  governed  ;  and  is 
at  the  same  time  removed  at  the  greatest  distance  from  the  in- 
fluence of  private  motives.  But  let  this  power  be  deposited 
where  it  will,  the  exercise  of  it  ought  to  be  regarded,  not  as  the 
gift  of  a  favour  to  be  yielded  to  solicitation,  granted  to  friend- 
ship, or,  least  of  all,  to  be  made  subservient  to  the  conciliciting 


AND  PUNISHMENTS.  377 

crgratifying  of  political  attachments,but  as  a  judicial  act;  as  a  de- 
liberation to  be  conducted  with  the  same  character  of  impartiality, 
ivith  the  same  exact  and  diligent  attention  to  the  proper  merits  and 
reasons  and  circumstances  of  the  case,  as  that  which  the  judge 
upon  the  bench  was  expected  to  maintain  and  show  in  the  trial 
of  the  prisoner's  guilt.  The  questions,  whether  the  prisoner  be 
guilty  ?  and  whether,  being  guilty,  he  ought  to  be  executed? 
are  equally  questions  of  public  justice.  The  adjudication  of 
the  latter  question  is  as  much  a  function  of  magistracy  as  the 
trial  of  the  former.  The  public  welfare  is  interested  in  both. 
The  conviction  of  an  offender  should  depend  upon  nothing  but 
the  proof  of  his  guilt ;  nor  the  execution  of  the  sentence  upon 
any  thing  beside  the  quality  and  circumstances  of  his  crime. 
It  is  necessary  to  the  good  order  of  society,  and  to  the  reputa- 
tion and  authority  of  government,  that  this  be  known  and  be- 
lieved to  be  the  case  in  each  part  o^  the  proceeding.  Which 
reflections  show  that  the  admission  of  extrinsic  or  oblique  consid- 
erations, in  dispensing  with  the  power  of  pardon,  is  a  crime,  in 
the  authors  and  advisers  of  such  unmerited  partiality,  of  the 
same  nature  with  that  of  corruption  in  a  judge. 

Aggravations  which  ought  to  guide  the  magistrate  in  the  se- 
lection of  objects  of  condign  punishment,  are  principally  these 
three, — repetition,  cruelty,  combination.  The  two  first,  it  is 
manifest,  add  to  every  reason  upon  which  the  justice  or  the 
necessity  of  rigorous  measures  can  be  founded  ;  and,  with  re- 
spect to  the  last  circumstance,  it  may  be  observed,  that  whgHi 
theives  and  robbers  are  once  collected  into  gangs,  their  violence 
becomes  more  formidable,  the  confederates  more  desperate,  and 
the  difficulty  of  defending  the  public  against  their  depredations 
much  greater,  than  in  the  case  of  solitary  adventurers.  ^Vhich 
several  considerations  compose  a  distinction,  that  is  properly 
adverted  to,  in  deciding  upon  the  fate  of  convicted  malefactors. 

In  crimes,  however,  which  are  perpetrated  by  a  multitude, 
or  by  a  gang,  it  is  proper  to  separate,  in  the  punishment,  the  ring- 
leader from  his  followers,  the  principal  from  his  accomplices, 


378  OF  CRIMES 

and  even  the  person  who  struck  the  blow,  broke  the  lock,  or 
first  entered  the  house,  from  those  who  joined  him  in  the  felo- 
ny ;  not  so  much  on  account  of  any  distinction  in  the  guilt  of 
the  offenders,  as  for  the  sake  of  casting  an  obstacle  in  the  way 
of  such  confederacies,  by  rendering  it  difficult  for  the  confederates 
to  settle  who  shall  begin  the  attack,  or  to  find  a  man  amongst 
their  number  willing  to  expose  himself  to  greater  danger  than 
his  associates.  This  is  another  instance  in  which  the  punish- 
ment, which  expediency  directs,  does  not  pursue  tlie  exact  pro- 
portion of  the  crime. 

Injuries  effected  by  terror  and  violence,  are  those  which  it  is 
the  first  and  chief  concern  of  legal  government  to  repress  ;  be- 
cause their  extent  is  unlimited  ;  because  no  private  precaution 
can  protect  the  subject  against  them  ;  because  they  endanger 
life  and  safety,  as  w^ell  as  property  ;  and  lastly,  because  they 
render  the  condition  of  society  wretched,  by  a  sense  of  personal 
insecurity.  These  reasons  do  not  apply  to  frauds  which  cir- 
cumspection may  prevent ;  which  must  wait  for  opportuni- 
ty ;  which  can  proceed  only  to  certain  limits  ;  and,  by  tl>€  ap- 
prehension of  which,  although  the  business  of  life  be  incommod- 
ed, life  itself  is  not  made  miserable.  The  appearance  of  this 
distinction  has  led  some  humane  writers  to  express  a  wish,  that 
capital  punishments  might  be  confined  to  crimes  of  violence. 

In  estimating  the  comparative  malignancy  of  crimes  of  vio- 
lence, regard  is  to  be  had,  not  only  to  the  proper  and  intended 
mischief  of  the  crime,  but  to  the  fright  occasioned  by  the  at- 
tack, to  the  general  alarm  excited  by  it  in  others,  and  to  the 
consequences  which  may  attend  future  attempts  of  the  same 
kind.  Thus,  in  affixing  the  punishment  of  burglary,  or  of 
breaking  into  dwelling-houses  by  night,  we  are  to  consider,  not 
only  the  peril  to  vvhirh  the  most  valuable  property  is  exposed  by 
this  crime,  and  which  may  be  called  the  direct  mischief  of  it, 
but  the  danger  also  of  murder  in  case  of  resistance,  or  for  the 
sake  of  preventing  discovery,  and  the  universal  dread  with 
which  the  silent  and  defenceless  hours  of  rest  and  sleep  must  be 


AND  PUNISHMENTS.  379 

disturbed,  were  attempts  of  this  sort  to  become  frequent  :  and 
which  dread  alone,  even  without  the  mischief  which  is  the  ob- 
ject of  it,  is  not  only  a  public  evil,  but  almost  of  all  evils  the  most 
insupportable.  These  circumstances  place  a  difference  between 
the  breaking  into  a  dwelling-house  by  day,  and  by  night ; 
which  difference  obtains  in  the  punishment  of  the  offence  by  the 
law  of  Moses,  and  is  probably  to  be  foursd  in  the  judicial  codes 
of  most  countries  from  the  earliest  ages  to  the  present. 

Of  frauds,  or  of  injuries  which  are  effected  without  force,  the 
most  noxious  kinds  are, — forgeries,  counterfeiting  or  diminish- 
ing of  the  coin,  and  the  stealing  of  letters  in  the  course  of  their 
conveyance  ;  inasmuch  as  these  practices  tend  to  deprive  the 
public  of  accommodations,  which  not  only  improve  the  conven- 
iences of  social  life,  but  are  essential  to  the  prosjierity,  ande\"€ii 
the  existence  of  commerce.  Of  these  crimes  it  may  be  said, 
that  although  they  seem  to  affect  property  alone,  the  mischief 
of  their  operation  does  not  terminate  there.  For,  let  it  be  sup- 
posed, that  the  remissness  or  lenity  of  the  laws  should,  in  any 
country,  suffer  offences  of  this  sort  to  grow  into  such  a  frequen- 
cy, as  to  render  the  use  of  money,  the  circulation  of  bills,  or  the 
public  conveyance  of  letters,  no  longer  safe  or  practicable  ; 
what  would  follow,  but  that  every  species  of  trade  and  of  activ- 
ity  must  decline  under  these  discouragements  ;  the  sources  of 
subsistence  fail,  by  which  the  inhabitants  of  the  country  are  sup- 
ported ;  the  country  itself,  where  the  intercourse  of  civil  life 
was  so  endangered  and  defective,  be  deserted  ;  and  that,  beside 
the  distress  and  poverty  which  the  loss  of  employment  would 
produce  to  the  industrious  and  valuable  part  of  the  existing 
community,  a  rapid  depopulation  must  take  place,  each  genera- 
tion becoming  less  numerous  than  the  last;  till  solitude  and 
barrenness  overspread  the  land  ;  until  a  desolation  similar  to 
what  obtains  in  many  countries  of  Asia,  which  were  once  the 
most  civilized  and  frequented  part  of  the  world,  succeed  in  the 
place  of  crowded  cities,  of  cultivated  fields,  of  happy  and  well- 
peopled  regions?     When  we  carry  forward   therefore  our  views 


380  OK  CRIMEb 

4o  the  more  dibtant,  but  not  less  certain  consequences  ot  these 
crimes,  we  perceive  that,  though  no  living  creature  be  destroy- 
ed by  thein,  yet  human  life  is  diminished  ;  that  an  offence,  the 
particular  consquence  of  which  deprives  only  an  individual  of  a 
small  portion  of  his  property,  and  which  even  in  its  general  ten- 
dency seems  only  to  obstruct  the  enjoyment  of  certain  public 
conveniencies,  may,  nevertheless,  by  its  ultimateeffects,  conclude 
in  the  laying  waste  of  human  existence.  This  observation  will 
enable  those  who  regard  the  divine  rule  of  "  life  for  life,  and 
blood  for  blood,"  as  the  only  authorized  and  justifiable  meas- 
ure of  capital  punishment,  to  perceive,  vvidi  respect  to  the  effects 
and  quality  of  the  actions,  a  greater  resemblance  than  they  sup- 
pose to  exist  between  certain  atrocious  frauds,  and  those  crimes 
which  attack  personal  safety. 

In  the  case  of  forgeries,  there  appears  a  substantial  difference 
between  the  forging  of  bills  yf  exchange,  or  of  securities  which 
are  circulated,  and  of  which  the  circulation  and  currency  are 
found  to  serve  and  facilitate  valuable  purposes  of  commerce  ;  and 
the  /brging  of  bonds,  leases,  mortgages,  or  of  instruments  which 
are  not  commonly  transferred  from  one  hand  to  another ; 
because,  in  the  former  case  credit  is  necessarily  given  to  the 
signature,  and  without  that  credit  the  negociation  of  such  prop- 
erty could  not  be  carried  on,  nor  the  public  utility,  sought  from 
it,  be  attained  :  in  the  other  case,  all  possibility  of  deceit  might 
he  precluded,  by  a  direct  communication  between  the  parties, 
or  by  due  care  in  the  choice  of  their  agents,  with  little  interrup- 
tion to  business,  and  without  destroying,  or  much  encumbering, 
the  uses  Cor  which  these  intsruments  are  calculated.  This  dis- 
tinction I  apprehend  to  be  not  only  real,  but  precise  enough  to 
afford  a  line  of  division  between  forgeries,  which,  as  the  law 
now  stands,  are  almost  universally  capital,  and  punished  with 
updistinguishing  severity. 

Perjury  is  another  crime  of  the  same  class  and  magnitude. 
And,  when  we  consider  what  reliance  is  necessarily  placed  upon 
oaths  ;  that  all  judicial  decisions  proceed  upon  testimony  ;  that 


AND  PUiNISHMENTS.  SCI 

consequently  there  is  not  a  right  that  a  man  possesses,  of  which 
false  witnesses  may  not  deprive  him  ;  that  reputation,  property, 
and  life  itself,  lie  open  to  the  attempts  of  perjury  ;  that  it  may 
often  be  committed  without  a  possibility  of  contradiction  or  dis- 
covery ;  that  the  success  and  prevalency  of  this  vice  tend  to  in- 
troduce the  most  grievous  and  fatal  injustice  into  the  administration 
of  human  affairs,  or  such  a  distrust  of  testimony  as  must  create 
universal  embarrassment  and  confusion  : — when  v.'e  reflect  upon 
these  mischiefs,  we  shall  be  brought,  probably,  to  agree  with 
the  opinion  of  those,  who  contend  that  perjury,  in  its  punishment, 
especially  that  which  is  attempted  in  solemn  evidence,  and  in  the 
face  of  a  court  of  justice,  should  be  placed  upon  a  level  with  the 
most  flagitious  frauds. 

The  obtaining  of  money  by  secret  threat;),  whether  we  regard 
the  difliculty  with  which  the  crime  is  traced  out,  the  odious  im- 
putations to  which  it  may  lead,  or  the  profligate  conspiracies,  that 
are  sometimes  formed  to  carry  it  into  execution,  deserves  to  be 
reckoned  amongst  the  worst  species  of  robbery. 

The  frequency  of  capital  executions  in  this  country,  owes  its 
necessity  to  three  causes  ; — much  liberty,  great  cities,  and  the 
,  want  of  a  punishment  short  of  death,  possessing  a  sufficient  degree 
of  terror.  And  if  the  taking  away  of  the  life  of  malefactors  be 
more  rare  in  other  countries  than  in  ours,  the  reason  will  be  found 
in  some  difference  in  these  articles.  The  liberties  of  a  free  peo- 
ple, and  still  more  the  jealousy  with  which  these  liberties  are 
watched,  and  by  which  they  are  preserved,  permit  not  those 
()recautions  and  restraints,  that  inspection,  scrutiny,  and  control, 
which  are  exercised  with  success  in  arbitrary  governments.  For 
example,  neither  the  spirit  of  the  laws,  nor  of  the  people,  will 
suffer  the  detention  or  confinement  of  suspected  persons,  without 
proofs  of  their  guilt,  which  is  often  impossible  to  obtain  ;  nor  will 
they  allow  masters  of  families  to  be  obliged  to  record  and  render 
up  a  description  of  the  strangers  or  inmates  whom  they  enter- 
tain ;  nor  that  an  account  be  demanded,  at  the  pleasure  of  the 
magistrate,  of  each  man's  time,  employment,  and  means  of  sub- 


382  OF  CRIMES 

sistence  ;  nor  securities  lo  be  required  when  these  accounts  ap- 
pear unsatisfactory  or  dubious  ;  nor  men  to  be  apprehended  up- 
on the  mere  suggestion  of  idleness  or  vagrancy  ;  nor  to  be  con- 
fined to  certain  districts  ;  nor  the  inhabitants  of  each  district  to 
be  made  responsible  for  one  another's  behaviour  :  nor  passports 
to  be  exacted  from  all  persons  entering  or  leaving  the  kingdom  : 
Ijeast  of  all  will  they  tolerate  the  appearance  of  an  armed  force, 
or  of.military  law  ;  or  suiTer  the  streets  and  public  roads  to  be 
guarded  and  patrolled  by  soldiers  ;  or,  lastly,  intrust  the  police 
with  such  discretionary  powers,  as  may  make  sure  of  the  guilty, 
however  they  involve  the  innocent.  These  expedients,  although 
arbitrary  and  rigorous,  are  many  of  them  effectual  ;  and  in  pro- 
portion as  they  render  the  commission  or  concealment  of  crimes 
more  difficult,  they  substract  fiom  the  necessity  of  severe  pun- 
ishment.— Great  cities  multiply  crimes,  by  presenting  easier  op- 
portunities and  more  incentives  to  libertinism,  which  in  low  life 
is  commonly  the  introductoiy  stage  to  other  enormities  ;  by 
collecting  thieves  and  robbers  into  the  same  neighbourhood, 
which  enables  them  to  form  communications  and  confederacies, 
that  increase  their  art  and  courage,  as  well  as  strength  and  wick- 
edness ;  but  principally  by  the  refuge  they  afford  to  villany,  in 
the  means  of  concealment,  and  of  subsisting  in  secrecy,  which 
crowded  towns  supply  to  men  of  every  description.  These 
temptations  and  facilities  can  only  be  counteracted  by  adding  to 
the  number  of  capital  punishments. — But  a  third  cjuse,  which 
increases  the  frequency  of  capital  executions  in  England,  is  a 
defect  in  the  laws,  in  not  being  provided  with  any  other  punish- 
ment than  that  of  death,  sufficiently  terrible  to  keep  offenders  in 
awe.  Transportation,  which  is  the  sentence  second  in  the  order  of 
severity,  a[)pears  to  me  to  answer  the  purpose  of  example  very 
imperfectly  ;  not  only  because  exile  is  in  reality  a  slight  pun- 
ishment to  those  who  have  neither  property,  nor  friends,  nor  rep- 
utation, nor  regular  means  of  subsistence  at  home,  and  because 
their  situation  becomes  little  worse  by  their  crime  than  it  was 
before  they  committed  it ;  but  because  the  punishment,  what- 


AND  PUNISHMENTS.  383 

ever  it  be,  is  unobserved  and  unknown.  A  transported  con- 
vict may  suffer  under  his  sentence,  but  his  sufferings  are  re- 
moved from  the  view  of  his  countrymen  ;  his  misery  is  unseen  ; 
his  condition  strikes  no  terror  into  the  minds  of  those,  for  whose 
warning  and  admonition  it  was  intended.  This  chasm  in  the 
scale  of  punishment  produces  also  two  further  imperfections  in 
the  administration  of  penal  justice  ;  the  first  is,  that  the  same 
punishment  is  extended  to  crimes  of  very  different  character 
and  malignancy  ;  the  second,  that  punishments  separated  by  a 
great  interval,  are  assigned  to  crimes  hardly  distinguishable  in 
their  guilt  and  mischief. 

The  end  of  punishment  is  two-fold — ^amendmeni  and  example. 
In  the  first  of  these,  the  reformation  of  criminals,  little 
has  ever  been  effected,  and  little  I  fear,  is  practicable.  From 
every  species  of  punishment  that  has  hitherto  been  devised, 
from  imprisonment  and  exile,  from  pain  and  infamy,  malefactors 
return  more  hardened  in  their  crimes,  and  more  instructed.  If 
there  be  any  thing  that  shakes  the  soul  of  a  confirmed  villain,  it 
is  the  expectation  of  approaching  death.  The  horrors  of  this 
situation  may  cause  such  a  wrench  in  the  mental  organs,  as  to 
give  them  a  holding  turn  ;  and  I  think  it  probable,  that  many 
of  those  who  are  executed,  would,  if  they  were  delivered  at  the 
point  of  death,  retain  such  a  remembrance  of  their  sensations, 
as  might  preserve  them,  unless  urged  by  extreme  want,  from  re- 
lapsing into  their  former  crimes.  But  this  is  an  experiment  that, 
from  its  nature,  cannot  be  repeated  often. 

Of  the  reforming  punishraenls  which  haVe  not  yet  been  tried, 
none  promises  so  much  success  as  thzt  o{ solitary  imprisonment, 
or  the  confinement  of  criminals  in  separate  apartments.  This 
improvement  would  augment  the  terror  of  the  punishment ; 
would  seclude  the  criminal  from  the  society  of  his  fellow-prison- 
ers, in  which  society  the  worse  are  sure  to  corrupt  the  better , 
would  wean  him  from  the  knowledge  of  his  companions,  and 
t'roni  the  love  of  that  turbulent,  precarious  life,  in  which  his  vi- 
ces had  engaged  him  ;  would  raise  up  in  him  reflections  on  the 
folly  of  his  choice,  and  dispose  his  mind  to  such  bitter  and  con- 


384  OF  CRIMEA 

tiiiued  penitence,  as   miglit  produce  a   lasting  aller.ition  iii  the 
principles  of  his  comluct. 

As  aversion  to  labour  is  the  cause  from  vvhiclj  half  of  the  vices 
of  low  life  deduce  their  origin  and  continuance,  punishments 
ought  to  be  contrived  with  a  view  to  the  conquering  of  this  dispo- 
sition. Two  opposite  expedients  have  been  recommended  for 
this  purpose  ;  the  one,  solitary  confinement,  with  hard  labour  ; 
the  other,  solitary  confinement  with  notliing  to  do.  Both  expe- 
dients seek  the  same  end  ; — to  reconcile  the  idle  to  a  life  of  in- 
dustry. The  former  hopes  to  effect  this  by  making  labour  ha- 
bitual ;  the  latter,  by  making  idleness  irksome  and  insupporta- 
ble :  and  the  preference  of  one  method  to  the  other  depends  upon 
the  question,  whether  a  man  is  more  likely  to  betake  himself,  of 
his  own  accord,  to  work,  who  has  been  accustomed  to  employ- 
ment, or  who  has  been  distressed  by  the  want  of  it.  When  gaols 
are  once  provided  for  the  separate  confinement  of  prisoners, 
whicii  both  proposals  require,  the  choice  between  them  may 
■-oon  be  determined  by  experience.  If  labour  be  exacted,  I 
would  leave  the  whole,  or  a  portion,  of  the  profit  to  the  prisoner's 
use,  and  I  would  debar  him  from  any  other  provision  or  fupply  ; 
that  this  subsistence,  however  coarse  or  penuri<>us,  may  be  pro- 
portioned to  his  diligence,  and  that  he  may  taste  the  advantage 
of  industry,  together  with  the  toil.  I  would  go  further  ;  I  would 
jneasure  the  confinement,  not  by  duration  of  time,  but  by  quan- 
tity of  work,  in  order  both  to  excite  industry,  and  to  render  it 
more  voluntary.  But  the  principal  difficulty  remains  still  ; 
nnmely,  how  to  dispose  of  criminals  after  their  enlargement. 
By  a  rule  of  life,  which  is  perhaps  too  invariably  and  indiscrim- 
inately adhered  to,  no  one  will  receive  a  man  or  woman  out  of 
gaol,  into  any  service  or  employment  whatever.  This  is  the 
common  misfortune  of  public  punishments,  that  they  preclude 
the  offender  from  all  honest  u)ean3  of  future  support.*     It  seems 

"^  Until  this  inconvenience  be  remedied,  small  offences  bad  perhaps 
better  go  unpunished  :  I  do  not  mean  that  the  law  shoulJ  exempt  them 
from  punishment,  but  that  private  persons  should  be  tender  in  prosecuting 
them. 


AND  PUNISHMENTS.  385 

incinnbent  upon  the  State  to  secure  a  maintenance  to  those  who 
are  willing  to  work  for  it  ;  and  yet  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to 
divide  criminals  as  far  asunder  from  one  another  as  possible. 
Whether  male  prisoners  might  not,  after  the  term  of  their  con- 
finement was  expired,  be  distributed  in  the  country,  detained 
within  certain  limits,  and  employed  upon  the  public  roads  ;  and 
females  be  remitted  to  the  overseers  of  country  parishes,  to  be 
there  furnished  with  dwellings,  and  with  the  materials  and  im- 
plements of  occupation  ;  whether  by  these,  or  by  what  other 
methods,  it  may  be  possible  to  effect  the  two  purposes  of  employ-^ 
ment  and  dispersion,  well  merits  the  attention  of  all  who  are  anx- 
ious to  perfect  the  internal  regulation  of  their  country. 

Torture  is  applied  either  to  obtain  confessions  of  guilt,  or  to 
exasperate  or  prolong  the  pains  of  death.  No  bodily  punish- 
ment, however  excruciating  or  long  continued,  receives  the  name 
of  torture,  unless  it  be  designed  to  kill  the  criminal  by  a  more 
lingering  death  ;  or  to  extort  from  him  the  discovery  of  some 
■secret,  which  is  supposed  to  lie  concealed  in  his  breast.  The 
question  by  torture  appears  to  be  equivocal  in  its  effects  ;  for, 
since  extremity  of  pain,  and  not  any  consciousness  of  remorse  in 
the  mind,  produces  those  effects,  an  innocent  man  may  sink  un- 
der the  torment  as  soon  as  the  guilty.  The  latter  has  as  much 
to  fear  from  yielding  as  the  lormer.  The  instant  and  almost  ir- 
resistible desire  of  relief  may  draw  from  one  sufferer  false  accu- 
sations of  himself  or  others,  as  it  may  sometimes  extract  the 
truth  out  of  another.  This  ambiguity  renders  the  use  of  torture, 
as  a  means  of  procuring  information  in  criminal  proceedings,  lia- 
ble to  the  risk  of  grievous  and  irreparable  injustice.  For  which 
reason,  though  recommended  by  ancient  and  general  example, 
it  has  been  properly  exploded  from  the  mild  and  cautious  system 
of  penal  jurisprudence  established  in  this  country. 

Barbarous  spectacles  of  human  agony  are  justly  found  fault 
with,  as  tending  to  harden  aed  deprave  the  public  feelings,  and 
to  destroy  that  sympathy  with  which  the  sufferings  of  our  fellow- 
•creatures  ought  always  to  be  seen  ;  or,  if  no  effect  of  this  kind 


386  OF  CRIMES 

folIo\V  from  them,  they  counteract  in  some  rheasure  their  own 
design,  by  sinking  men's  abhorrence  of  the  criminal.  But  if  a 
mode  of  execution  could  be  devised  which  would  augment  the 
liorror  of  the  punishment,  without  offending  or  impairing  the  pub- 
lic sensibility  by  cruel  or  unseemly  exhibitions  of  death,  it  might 
add  something  to  the  efficacy  of  the  example  ;  and  by  being  re^ 
served  for  a  few  atrocious  crimes,  might  also  enlarge  the  scale 
of  punishment  ;  an  addition  to  which  seems  wanting  :  for  as  the 
matter  remains  at  present,  you  hang  a  malefactor  for  a  simple 
robbery,  and  can  do  no  more  to  the  villain  who  has  poisoned  his 
father.  Somewhat  of  the  sort  we  have  been  describing,  was 
the  proposal,  not  long  since  suggested,  of  casting  murderers  in- 
to a  den  of  wild  beasts,  where  they  would  perish  in  a  manner 
dreadful  to  the  imagination,  yet  concealed  from  the  view. 

Infamous  punishments  are  mismanaged  in  this  country,  with 
respect  both  to  the  crimes  and  the  criminals.  In  the  first  place, 
they  ought  to  be  confined  to  oflences  which  are  held  in  undis- 
puted and  universal  detestation.  To  condemn  to  the  pillory 
the  author  or  editor  of  a  libel  against  the  State,  who  has  render- 
ed himself  the  favourite  of  a  party,  if  not  of  the  people,  by  the 
very  act  for  which  he  stands  there,  is  to  gratify  the  offender,  and 
to  expose  the  laws  to  mockery  and  insult.  In  the  second  place, 
the  delinquents  who  receive  this  sentence,  are  for  the  most  part 
such  as  have  long  ceased  either  to  value  reputation,  or  to  fear 
shame  :  of  whose  happiness,  and  of  whose  enjoyments,  charac- 
ter makes  no  part.  Thus  the  low  ministers  of  Jibertinism,  the 
keepers  of  bawdy  or  disorderly  houses,  are  threatened  in  vain 
with  a  punishment  that  affects  a  sense  which  they  have  not; 
tliat  applies  solely  to  the  imagination,  to  the  virtue  and  the  pride 
of  human  nature.  The  pillory,  or  any  other  infamous  distinc- 
tion, might  be  employed  riglitly,  and  with  effect,  in  the  punish- 
ment of  some  offences  of  higher  life  ;  as  of  frauds  and  peculation 
in  office  ;  of  collusions  and  connivances,  by  which  the  public 
treasury  is  defrauded  ;  of  breaches  of  trust  ;  of  peijury  and  sub^ 
ornation  of  perjury  ;  of  tlip  clandestine  and   forbidden  sale  of 


AND  PUNISHMENTS.  ,^87 

places  ;  of  flagrant  abuses  of  authority,  or  neglect  of  duty  ;  and 
lastly,  of  corruption  in  the  exercise  of  confidential  or  judicial  of- 
fices. In  all  which,  the  more  elevated  was  the  station  of  the 
criminal,  the  more  signal  and  conspicuous  would  be  the  triumph 
of  justice. 

The  certainty  of  punishment  is  of  more  consequence  than  the 
severity.  Criminals  do  not  so  much  flatter  themselves  with  the 
lenity  of  the  sentence,  as  with  the  hope  of  escaping.  Tney  are 
not  so  apt  to  compare  what  they  gain  by  the  crime  with  what 
they  may  suffer  from  the  punishment,  as  to  encourage  themselves 
with  the  chance  of  concealment  or  flight.  For  which  reason,  a 
vigilant  magistracy,  an  accurate  police,  a  proper  distribution  of 
force  and  intelligence,  together  with  due  rewards  for  the  discov- 
■ery  and  apprehension  of  malefactoi-s,  and  an  undeviating  impar- 
tiality in  carrying  the  laws  into  execution,  contribute  more  to 
the  restraint  and  suppression  of  crimes  than  any  violent  exacer- 
bations of  punishment.  And  for  the  same  reason,  of  all  contri- 
vances directed  to  this  end,  those  perhaps  are  most  effectual 
which  facilitate  the  conviction  of  criminals.  The  offence  of 
counterfeiting  the  coin  could  not  be  checked  by  all  the  terrors 
and  the  utmost  severity  of  law,  whilst  Uie  act  of  coining  was 
necessary  to  be  established  by  specific  proof.  The  statute 
which  made  the  possession  of  the  implements  of  coining  capital, 
that  is,  which  constituted  that  posession  complete  evidence  of 
the  offender's  guilt,  was  the  first  thing  that  gave  force  and  effi- 
cacy to  the  denunciations  of  law  upon  this  subject.  The  statute 
of  James  the  First,  relative  to  the  murder  of  bastard  children, 
which  ordains  that  the  concealment  of  the  birth  should  be  deem- 
ed incontestible  proof  of  the  charge,  though  a  harsh  law,  was,  in 
like  manner  with  the  former,  well  calculated  to  put  a  stop  to  the 
crime. 

It  is  upon  the  principle  of  this  observation,  that  I  apprehend 
much  harm  to  have  been  done  to  the  community,  by  the  over- 
strained scrupulousness,  or  weak  timidity  of  juries,  which  de- 
mands often  such  proof  of  a  prisoner's  guilt,  as  the  nature  and 


;jaL;  RELIGIOUS  ESTABLISHMENT!:, 

secrecy  of  liis'  crime  scarce  possibly  admit  of;  and  which  holds 
it  the  part  of  a  safe  conscience  not  to  condemn  any  man,  whilst 
there  exists  the  minutest  possibility  of  his  innocence.  Any  sto- 
ry they  may  happen  to  have  heard  or  read,  whether  real  or  feign- 
ed, in  which  courts  of  justice  have  been  misled  by  presumptions 
of  guilt,  is  enough,  in  their  minds,  to  found  an  acquittal  upon, 
where  positive  proof  is  wanting.  I  do  not  mean  that  juries  should 
indulge  conjectures,  should  magnify  suspicions  into  proofs,  or 
even  that  they  should  weigh  probabilities  in  gold  scales;  but 
when  the  preponderation  of  evidence  is  so  manifest  as  to  per- 
suade every  private  understanding  of  the  prisoner's  guilt  ;  when 
it  furnishes  that  degree  of  credibility,  upon  which  men  decide 
and  act  in  all  other  doubts,  and  which  experience  hath  shown 
that  they  may  decide  and  act  upon  with  sufficient  safety  :  to  re- 
ject such  proof,  from  an  insinuation  of  uncertainty  that  belongs 
to  all  human  affairs,  and  from  a  general  dread  lest  the  charge  of 
innocent  blood  should  lie  at  their  doors,  is  a  conduct  which,  how- 
ever natural  to  a  mind  studious  to  its  own  quiet,  is  authorized  by 
no  considerations  of  rectitude  or  utility.  It  counteracts  the  care 
and  damps  the  activity  of  government :  it  holds  out  public  en- 
couragement to  villany,  by  confessing  the  impossibility  of  bring- 
ing villains  to  justice  :  and  that  species  of  encouragement  which, 
as  hath  been  just  now  observed,  the  minds  of  such  men  are  most 
apt  to  entertain  and  dwell  upon. 

•  There  are  two  popular  maxims,  which  seem  to  have  a  consid- 
erable influence  in  producing  the  injudicious  acquittals  of  which 
we  complain.  One  is,  "  That  circumstantial  evidence  falls  short 
"of  positive  proof."  This  assertion,  in  Hie  unqualified  sense  in 
which  it  is  applied,  is  not  true.  A  concurrence  of  well  authen- 
ticated circumstances  composes  a  stranger  ground  of  assurance 
than  positive  testimony,  unconfirmed  by  circumstances,  usually 
affords.  Circumstances  cannot  lie.  The  conclusion  also  which 
results  from  them,  though  deduced  by  only  probable  inference, 
is  commonly  more  to  be  relied  upon  than  the  veracity  of  an  un- 
supported solitary  witness.     The  danger  of  being  deceived  is 


AND  PUNISHMENTS.  389 

less,  the  actual  instances  of  deception  are  fewer,  in  the  one  case 
than  the  other.  What  is  called  positive  proof  in  criminal  mat- 
ters, as  where  a  man  swears  to  the  person  of  the  prisoner,  and 
that  he  actually  saw  him  commit  the  crime  with  which  he  is 
charged,  may  be  founded  in  the  mistake  or  perjury  of  a  single 
witness.  Such  mistakes,  and  such  perjuries,  are  not  without 
many  examples.  Whereas,  to  impose  upon  a  court  of  justice  a 
chain  of  circumstantial  evidence  in  su^iport  of  a  fabricated  accu- 
sation, requires  such  a  number  of  false  witnesses  as  seldom  meet 
together  ;  a  union  also  of  skill  and  wickedness  which  is  still  more 
rare  :  and,  after  all,  this  species  of  proof  lies  much  more  open 
to  discussion,  and  is  more  likely,  if  false,  tobe  contradicted,  or 
to  betray  itself  by  some  unforeseen  inconsistency,  than  that  di- 
rect proof,  which  being  confined  within  the  knowledge  of  a  sin- 
gle person,  which  appealing  to,  or  standing  connected  with,  no 
external  or  collateral  circumstances,  is  incapable,  by  its  very 
simplicity,  of  being  confronted  with  opposite  probabilities. 

The  other  maxim  which  deserves  a  similar  examination  i« 
this  : — "  That  it  is  better  that  ten  guilty  persons  escape,  than 
"  that  one  innocent  man  should  suffer."  If  by  saying  it  is  bet- 
ter, be  meant  that  it  is  more  for  the  public  advantage,  the  propo- 
sition, I  think,  cannot  be  maintained.  The  security  of  civil  life, 
which  is  essential  to  the  value  and  the  enjoyment  of  every  bless- 
ing it  contains,  and  the  interruption  of  which,  is  followed  by  uni- 
versal misery  and  confusion,  is  protected  chiefly  by  the  dread 
of  punishment.  The  misfortune  of  an  individual  (for  such  may 
the  sufferings,  or  even  the  death,  of  an  innocent  person  be  call- 
ed, when  they  are  occasioned  by  no  evil  intention)  cannot  be 
placed  in  competition  with  this  object.  I  do  not  contend  that 
the  life  or  safety  of  the  meanest  subject  ought,  in  any  case  to  be 
knowingly  sacrificed  :  no  principle  of  judicature,  no  end  of  pun- 
ishment, can  ever  require  that.  But  when  certain  rules  of  adju- 
dication must  be  pursued,  when  certain  degrees  of  credibility 
must  be  accepted,  in  order  to  reach  the  crimes  with  which  the 
public  are  infested  ;  courts  of  justice  should  not  be  deterred 
from  the  application  of  these  rules  by  erer^/ suspicion  of  danger. 


390  RELIGIOUS  ESTABLISHMENTS. 

or  by  the  mere  possibility  of  confounding  the  innocent  witli  the 
guilty.  They  ought  rather  to  reflect,  that  he  who  falls  by  a 
mistaken  sentence  may  be  considered  as  falling  for  his  country  j 
whilst  he  suffers  under  the  operation  of  those  rules,  by  the  gen- 
eral effect  and  tendency  of  which  the  welfare  of  the  community 
is  maintained  and  upheld. 


CHAPTER  X. 

OF  RELIGIOUS  ESTABLISHMENTS,  AND  OF  TOLERATION. 

"  A  RELIGIOUS  establishment  is  no  part  of  Christianity  ;  it 
"  is  only  the  means  of  inculcating  it."  Amongst  the  Jews,  the 
rights  and  offices,  the  order,  family,  and  succession  of  the  priest- 
hood, weje  marked  out  by  the  authority  which  declared  the  law 
itself.  These,  therefore,  were /7flrts  of  the  Jewish  religion,  as 
well  as  ihe  means  of  transmitting  it.  Not  so  with  the  new  in- 
stitution. It  cannot  be  proved  that  any  form  of  church-govern- 
ment was  laid  down  in  the  Christian,  as  it  had  been  in  the  Jew- 
ish scriptures,  with  a  view  of  fixing  a  constitution  for  succeeding 
ages  ;  and  which  constitution,  consequently,  the  disciples  of 
Christianity  would  every  where,  and  at  all  times,  by  the  very 
law  of  their  religion,  be  obliged  to  adopt.  Certainly  no  com- 
mand for  this  purpose  was  delivered  by  Christ  himself  ;  and  if  it 
be  shown  that  the  apostles  ordained  bishops  and  presbytery  a- 
mongst  their  first  converts,  it  must  be  remembered  that  deacons 
also  and  deaconesses  were  appointed  by  them,  with  functions  very 
dissimilar  to  any  which  obtain  in  the  church  at  present.  The 
truth  seems  to  have  been,  that  such  offices  were  at  first  erected 
in  the  Christian  church,  as  the  good  order,  the  instruction,  and 
the  exigencies  of  the  society  at  that  time  required,  without  any 
intention,  at  least  without  any  declared  design,  of  regulating  the 
appointment,  authority,  or  the  distinction  of  Christian  ministers 
under  future  circumstances.     This  reserve,  if  we  may  so  call  it, 


AND  TOLERATION.  391 

In  the  Christian  Legislator,  is  sufficiently  accounted  for  by  two 
considerations  : — First,  That  no  precise  constitution  could  be 
framed,  which  would  suit  with  the  condition  of  Christianity  in 
its  primitive  state,  and  with  that  which  it  was  to  assume  when 
it  should  be  advanced  into  a  national  religion  :  Secondly,  That 
a  particular  designation  of  office  or  authority  amongst  the  min- 
isters of  the  new  religion,  might  have  so  interfered  with  the  ar- 
rangements of  civil  policy,  as  to  have  formed,  in  some  countries, 
a  considerable  obstacle  to  the  progress  and  reception  of  the  reli- 
gion itself, 

The  authority  therefore  of  a  church  establishment  is  founded  in 
its  utility  :  and  whenever,  upon  this  principle,  we  deliberate, 
concerning  the  form,  propriety,  or  comparative  excellency  of 
different  establishments,  the  single  view  under  which  we  ought 
to  consider  any  one  of  them,  is  that  of  "a  scheme  of  instruc- 
"  tion  ;"  the  single  end  we  ought  to  propose  by  them  is,  "  the 
"  preservation  and  communication  of  religious  knowledge."  Ev- 
ery other  idea,  and  every  other  end  that  have  been  mixed  with 
this,  as  the  making  of  the  church  an  engine,  or  even  an  ally  of 
the  state  ;  converting  it  into  the  means  of  strengthening  or  of 
diffusing  influence  ;  or  regarding  it  as  a  support  of  regal,  in  op- 
position to  popular  forms  of  government, — have  served  only  to 
debase  the  institution,  and  to  introduce  into  it  numerous  corrup- 
tions and  abuses. 

The  notion  of  a  religious  establishment  comprehends  three 
things  : — a  clergy,  or  an  order  of  men  secluded  from  other  pro- 
fessions to  attend  upon  the  otTices  of  religion  ;  a  legal  provision 
for  the  maintainance  of  the  clergy ;  and  the  confining  of  that 
provision  to  the  teachers  of  a  particular  sect  of  Chi'istianity. 
If  any  one  of  these  three  things  be  wanting  ;.  if  there  be  no  cler- 
gy, as  amongst  the  Quakers  ;  or  if  the  clergy  have  no  other  pro- 
vision than  what  they  derive  from  the  voluntary  contribution  of 
their  hearers  ;  or,  if  the  provision  which  the  laws  assign  to  th^ 
support  of  religion  be  extended  to  various  sects  and  denomina- 
tions of  Christians  ;  there  exists  no  national  religion  or  establish- 
51 


392  RELIGIOUS  ESTABLISHMENTS, 

ed  church,  according  to  the  sense  which  these  terms  are  usually 
made  to  convey.  He,  therefore,  who  would  defend  ecclesias- 
tical establishments,  must  show  the  separate  utility  of  these  three 
essential  parts  of  their  constitution  : — 

1.  The  question  first  in  order  upon  the  subject,  as  well  as  the 
most  fundamental  in  its  importance,  is,  whether  the  knowledge 
and  profession  of  Christianity  can  be  maintained  in  a  country 
without  a  class  of  men  set  apart  by  public  authority  to  the  study 
and  teaching  of  religion,  and  to  the  conducting  of  public  wor- 
ship ;  and  for  these  purposes,  secluded  from  other  employments. 
I  add  this  last  circumstance,  because  in  it  consists,  as  I  take  it» 
the  substance  of  the  controversy.  Now,  it  must  be  remember- 
ed, that  Christianity  is  an  historical  religion,  founded  in  facts 
which  are  related  to  have  passed,  upon  discourses  which  were 
held,  and  letters  which  were  written,  in  a  remote  age,  and  dis- 
tant country  of  the  world,  as  well  as  under  a  state  of  life  and 
manners,  and  during  the  prevalency  of  opinions,  customs,  and 
institutions,  very  unlike  any  which  are  found  amongst  mankind 
at  present.  Moreover,  this  religion,  having  been  first  published 
in  the  country  of  Judea,  and  being  built  upon  the  more  ancient 
religion  of  the  Jews,  is  necessarily  and  intimately  connected 
with  the  Sacred  Writings,  with  the  history  and  polity  of  that 
singular  people  ;  to  which  must  be  added,  that  the  records  of 
both  revelations  are  preserved  in  languages  which  have  long 
ceased  to  be  spoken  in  any  part  of  the  world.  Books  which 
come  down  to  us  from  times  so  remote,  and  under  so  many  caus- 
es of  unavoidable  obscurity,  cannot,  it  is  evident,  be  understood 
without  study  and  preparation.  The  languages  must  be  learr>- 
ed.  The  various  writings  which  these  volumes  contain,  must 
be  carefully  compared  with  one  another,  and  with  themselves. 
What  remains  of  contemporary  authors,  or  of  authors  connected 
with  the  age,  the  country,  or  the  subject  of  our  Scriptures, 
must  be  perused  and  consulted,  in  order  to  interpret  doubt- 
ful forms  of  speech,  and  to  explain  allusions  which  ref<»r  to 
objects  or  usages  that  no  longer  exist.     Above  all,  the  modes 


AND  TOLERATION.  393 

of  expression,  the  habits  of  reasoning  and  argumentation,  which 
were  then  in  use,  and  to  which  the  discourses  even  of  inspired 
teachers  were  necessarily  adapted,  must  be  sufficiently  known, 
and  can  only  be  known  at  all  by  a  due  acquaintance  with  an- 
cient literature.  And,  lastly,  to  establish  the  genuineness  and 
integrity  of  the  canonical  Scriptures  themselves,  a  series  of  tes- 
timony, recognizing  the  notoriety  and  reception  of  these  books, 
must  be  deduced  from  times  near  to  those  of  their  first  publica- 
tion, down  the  succession  of  ages  through  which  they  have  been 
transmitted  to  us.  The  qualifications  necessary  for  such  re- 
searches demand,  it  is  confessed,  a  degree  of  leisure,  and  a  kind 
of  education,  inconsistent  with  the  exercise  of  any  other  profes- 
sion ;  but  how  (ew  are  there  amongst  the  clergy,  from  whom  a- 
ny  thing  of  this  sort  can  be  expected  !  how  small  a  proportion 
of  their  number,  who  seem  likely  either  to  augment  the  fund  of 
sacred  literature,  or  even  to  collect  what  is  already  known  ! — 
To  this  objection  it  may  be  replied,  that  we  sow  many  seeds  to 
raise  one  flower.  In  order  to  produce  a  few  capable  of  im- 
proving and  continuing  the  stock  of  Christian  erudition,  leisure 
and  opportunity  must  be  afforded  to  great  numbers.  Original 
knowledge  of  this  kind  can  never  be  universal  ;  but  it  is  of  the- 
utmost  importance,  and  it  is  enough,  that  there  be  at  all  times 
found  some  qualified  for  such  inquiries,  and  in  whose  concurring 
and  independent  conclusions  upon  each  subject,  the  rest  of  the 
Christian  community  may  safely  confide  :  Whereas,  without  an 
order  of  clergy  educated  for  the  purpose,  and  led  to  the  pros- 
ecution of  these  studies,  by  the  habits,  the  leisure,  and  the  ob- 
ject of  their  vocation,  it  may  well  be  questioned  whether  the 
learning  itself  would  not  have  beenlost^by  which  the  records  of 
our  faith  are  int^erpreted  and  defended.  We  contend,  therefore, 
that  an  order  of  clergy  is  necessary  to  perpetuate  the  evidences 
of  revelation,  and  to  interpret  the  obscurities  of  those  ancient 
writings,  in  which  the  religion  is  contained.  But  beside  this, 
which  forms,  no  doubt,  one  design  of  their  institution,  the  more 
■ordinary  oiRces  of,  public  teaching,  and  of  conducting  pubjir 


394  RELIGIOUS  ESTABLISHMENTS, 

worship,  call  for  qualifications  not  usually  to  be  met  wlih  amidst 
the  employments  of  civil  life.  It  has  been  acknowledged  by 
some,  nho  cannot  be  suspected  of  making  unnecessary  conces- 
sions in  favour  of  establishments,  "  to  be  barely  possible,  that  a 
"  person  who  was  never  educated  for  the  oflice,  should  acquit 
"himself  with  decency  as  a  public  teacher  of  religion."  And 
that  surely  must  be  a  very  defective  policy  which  trusts  to  pos- 
sibilities for  success,  when  provision  is  to  be  made  for  regular 
and  general  instruction.  Little  objection  to  this  argument  can 
be  drawn  from  the  example  of  the  Quakers,  who,  it  may  be  said, 
furnish  an  experimental  proof  that  the  worship  and  profession  of 
Christianity  may  be  upheld  without  a  seperate  clergy.  These 
sectaries  every  where  subsist  in  conjunction  with  a  regular  es- 
tablishment. They  have  access  to  the  writings,  they  profit  by 
the  labours  of  the  clergy,  in  common  with  other  Christians. 
They  participate  in  that  general  diffusion  of  religious  knowledge, 
which  the  constant  teaching  of  a  more  regular  ministry  keeps  up 
in  the  country  ;  with  such  aids,  and  under  such  circumstances, 
the  defects  of  a  plan  may  not  be  much  felt,  although  the  plan  it> 
self  be  altogether  unfit  for  general  imitation. 

2.  If  then  an  order  of  clergy  be  necessary,  if  it  be  necessary 
also  to  seclude  them  from  the  employments  and  profits  of  other 
professions,  it  is  evident  they  ought  to  he  enabled  to  derive  a 
maintenance  from  their  own.  Now,  this  maintenance  must  ei- 
ther depend  upon  the  voluntary  contributions  of  their  hearers,  or 
arise  from  revenues  assigned  by  authority  of  law.  To  the 
scheme  of  voluntary  contribution  there  exists  this  insurmounta- 
ble objection,  that  few  would  ultimately  contribute  any  thing  at 
all.  However  the'zeal«of  a  sect,  or  the  novelty  of  a  change, 
might  support  such  an  experiment  tor  a  while,  no  reliance  could 
be  placed  upon  it  as  a  general  and  permanent  provision.  It  is  at 
all  times  a  bad  constitution,  which  presents  temptations  of  inte- 
rest in  opposition  to  the  duties  of  religiuti  ;  or  which  makes  the 
oftices  of  religion  cxi)ensive  to  those  who  attend  upon  them  ;  or 
which  allows  pretences  of  conscience  to,  be  an  excuse   for  not 


AND  TOLERATION.  395 

sharing  in  a  public  burthen.  If,  by  declining  to  frequent  reli- 
gious assemblies,  men  could  save  their  money,  at  the  same  time 
that  they  indulged  their  indolence,  and  their  disinclination  to 
exercises  of  seriousness  and  reflection  ;  or  if,  by  dissenting  from 
the  national  religion,  they  could  be  excused  from  contributing 
to  the  support  of  the  ministers  of  religion,  it  is  to  be  feared  that 
many  would  take  advantage  of  the  option  which  was  thus  im- 
prudently left  open  to  them,  and  that  this  liberty  might  finally 
operate  to  the  decay  of  virtue,  and  an  irrecoverable  forgetfulness 
of  all  religion  in  the  country.  Is  there  not  too  much  reason  to 
fear,  that  if  it  were  referred  to  the  discretion  of  each  neighbour- 
hood, whether  tfiey  would  maintain  amongst  them  a  teacher  of 
religion  or  not,  many  districts  would  remain  unprovided  with 
any  ?  that,  with  the  difficulties  which  encumber  every  measure 
requiring  the  co-operation  of  numbers,  and  where  each  individu- 
al of  the  number  has  an  interest  secretly  pleading  against  the 
success  of  the  measure  itself,  associations  for  the  support  of 
Christian  worship  and  instruction  would  neither  be  numerous 
nor  long  continued  ?  The  devout  and  pious  might  lament  in  vain 
the  want  or  the  distance  of  a  religious  assembly  ;  they  could 
not  form  or  maintain  one,  without  the  concurrence  of  neighbors 
who  felt  neither  their  zeal  nor  their  liberality. 

From  the  difficulty  with  which  congregations  would  be  estab- 
lished and  upheld  upon  the  voluntary  plan,  let  us  carry  our 
thoughts  to  the  condition  of  those  who  are  to  officiate  in  them. — 
Preaching,  in  time,  would  become  a  mode  of  begging.  With 
what  sincerity,  or  with  what  dignity,  can  a  preacher  dispense 
the  truths  of  Christianity,  whose  thoughts  are  perpetually  solic- 
ited to  the  reflection  how  he  may  increase  his  subscription  ?  His 
eloquence,  if  he  possess  any,  resembles  rather  the  exhibition  of 
a  player  who  is  computing  the  profits  of  his  theatre,  than  the 
simplicity  of  a  man  who,  feeling  himself  the  awful  expectations 
of  religion,  is  seeking  to  bring  others  to  such  a  sense  and  under- 
standing of  their  duty  as  may  save  their  souls.  Moreover,  a 
liitle  experience  of  the  disposition  of  the  common  people  will  iu 


306  RELIGIOUS  ESTABL13IIMEXTS, 

every  country  inform  us,  tli;it  it  is  one  thing  to  edily  tiieui  iti 
Christian  knowledge,  and  another  to  gratify  their  taste  for  vehe- 
ment, impassioned  oratory  ;  that  he,  not  only  whose  success, 
but  whose  subsistence,  depends  upon  collecting  and  pleasing  a 
crowd,  must  resort  to  other  arts  than  the  acquirement  and  com- 
munication of  sober  and  profitable  instruction.  For  a  preacher 
to  be  thus  at  the  mercy  of  his  audience  ;  to  be  obliged  to  adapt 
his  doctrines  to  the  pleasure  of  a  c.ipricious  multitude  ;  to  be 
continually  affecting  a  style  and  ma'nner  neither  natural  to  him, 
nor  agreeable  to  his  judgment ;  to  live  in  constant  bondage  to 
tyrannical  and  Insolent  directors  ;  are  circumstances  so  mortify- 
ing, not  only  to  the  pride  of  the  human  heart,  but  to  the  virtu- 
bus  love  of  independency, that  they  are  rarely  submitted  to  with- 
out a  sacrifice  ofprinciple,  and  a  depravation  of  character  ; — at 
least  it  may  be  pronounced,  that  a  ministry  so  degraded  would 
Soon  fall  into  the  lowt  !  !nnd:) ;  for,  it  would  be  found  impossi- 
ble to  engage  men  of  worth  and  ability  in  so  precarious  and  hu- 
miliating a   profession. 

If  in  deference  then  to  these  reasons,  it  be  admitted,  that  a 
legal  provision  for  the  clergy,  compulsory  upon  those  \vho  con- 
tribute to  it,  is  expedient  ;  the  next  question  will  be,  whether 
this  provision  should  be  confined  to  one  sect  of  Christianitj',  or 
extended  indifferently  to  all  ?  Now  it  should  be  observed,  that 
this  question  never  can  offer  itself  where  the  people  are  agreed 
in  their  religious  opinions  ;  and  that  it  never  ought  to  arise,  where 
a  system  may  be  framed  of  doctrines  and  worship  wide  enough 
to  comprehend  their  disagreement  ;  and  which  might  satisf}'  all, 
by  uniting  all  in  the  articles  of  their  common  faith,  and  in  a  mode 
of  divine  worship  that  omits  every  subject  of  controversy  or  of- 
fence. Where  such  a  comprehension  is  practicable,  the  com- 
prehending religion  ought  to  be  made  that  of  the  state.  But  if 
this  bo  despaired  of;  if  religious  opinions  exist,  not  only  so  va- 
rious, but  so  contradictory,  as  to  render  it  impossible  to  recon- 
cile them  to  each  other,  or  to  any  one  confession  of  faith,  rule  ot 
discipline,  or  form  of  worship  ;   if,  consequently,  separate  con- 


AND  TOLERATION.  397 

gregations  and  different  sects  must  unavoidably  continue  in  the 
country  :  under  such  circumstances,  whether  the  laws  ought  to 
establish  one  sect  in  preference  to  the  rest,  that  is,  whether  they 
ought  to  confer  the  provision  assigned  to  the  maintenance  of  re- 
ligion upon  the  teachers  of  one  system  of  doctrines  alone,  be- 
comes a  question  of  necessary  discussion  and  of  great  importance. 
And  whatever  we  may  determine  concerning  speculative  rights 
and  abstract  properties,  when  we  set  about  the  framing  of  an  ec- 
clesiastical constitution  adapted  to  real  life,  and  to  the  actual 
state  of  religion  in  the  country,  we  shall  find  this  question  very 
nearly  related  to  and  principally  indeed  dependent  upon  an- 
other ;  namely,  "  In  what  way,  or  by  whom,  ought  the  ministers 
"  of  religion  to  be  appointed  .^"  If  the  species  of  patronage  be 
retained  to  which  we  are  accustomed  in  this  country,  and  which 
allows  private  individuals  to  nominate  teachers  of  religion  for 
districts  and  congregations  to  which  they  are  absolute  strangers  ; 
without  some  test  proposed  to  the  persons  nominated,  the  utmost 
discordancy  of  religious  opinions  might  arise  between  the  sev- 
eral teachers  and  their  respective  congregations.  A  Popish  pat- 
ron might  appoint  a  priest  to  say  mass  to  a  congregation  of  Pro- 
testants ;  an  Episcopal  clergyman  be  sent  to  officiate  in  a  parish 
of  Presbyterians  ;  or  a  Presbyterian  divine  to  inveigh  against 
the  errors  of  Popery  betbre  an  audience  of  Papists.  The  requi- 
sition then  of  subscription,  on  any  other  test  by  which  the  natiou- 
al  religion  is  guarded,  may  be  considered  merely  as  a  restrictioa 
upon  the  exercise  of  private  patronage.  The  laws  speak  to  the 
private  patron  thus  : — "  Of  those  whom  we  have  previously  pro- 
**  nounced  to  be  fitly  qualified  to  teach  religion,  we  aliow  you 
"  to  select  one  ;  but  we  do  hot  allow  you  ta  decide  what  I'eli- 
''  gion  shall  be  established  in  a  particular  district  of  the  country  ; 
''  for  which  decision  you  are  in  nowise  fitted  by  any  qualifica- 
"  tions  which,  as  a  private  patron,  you  may  happen  to  possess. 
*'  If  it  be  necessary  that  the  point  be  determined  for  the  inhab- 
"  itants  by  anj'  other  will  than  their  own,  it  is  surely  better  that 
''  it  should  bo  determined  by  the  deliberate  resolution  of  the  le-,- 


898  RELIGIOUS  ESTABLISHMENTS, 

"  gislature,  than  hy  the  casual  inclination  of  an  individual,  by 
"  whom  the  right  is  purchased,  or  to  whom  it  devolves  as  a  mere 
"  secular  inheritance."  Wheresoever,  therefore,  this  constitu- 
tion of  patronage  is  adopted,  a  national  religion,  or  the  legal  pre- 
ference of  one  particular  religion  to  all  others,  must  almost  ne- 
cessarily accompany  it.  But,  secondly,  let  it  be  supposed,  that 
the  appointment  of  the  minister  of  religion  was  in  every  parish 
left  to  the  choice  of  the  parishioners  ;  might  not  this  choice,  we 
ask,  be  safely  exercised  without  its  being  limited  to  the  teachers 
of  any  particular  sect  ?  The  effect  of  such  a  liberty  must  be, 
that  a  Papist,  or  a  Presbyterian,  a  Methodist,  a  Moravian,  or  an 
Anabaptist,  would  successively  gain  possession  of  the  pulpit,  ac- 
cording as  a  majority  of  the  party  happened  at  each  election 
to  prevail.  Now,  with  what  violence  the  conflict  would  upon 
every  vacancy  be  renewed  ;  what  bitter  animosities  would  be 
revived,  or  rather  be  constantly  fed  and  kept  alive  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood ;  with  what  unconquerable  aversion  the  teacher  and  his 
religion  would  be  received  by  the  defeated  party,  may  be  fore- 
seen by  those  who  reflect  with  how  much  passion  every  dispute 
is  carried  on,  in  which  the  name  of  religion  can  be  made  to  mix 
itself  ;  much  more  where  the  cause  itself  is  concerned  so  imme- 
diately as  it  would  be  in  this.  Or,  thirdly,  If  the  state  appoint 
the  ministers  of  religion,  this  constitution  will  differ  little  from 
the  establishment  of  a  national  religion  :  for  the  state  will,  un- 
doubtedly, appoint  those,  and  those  alone,  whose  religious  opin- 
ions, or  rather,  whose  religious  denomination,  agrees  with  its 
own  ;  unless  it  be  thought  that  any  thing  would  be  gained  to  re- 
ligious liberty  by  transferring  (he  choice  of  the  national  religion 
from  the  legislature  of  the  country  to  the  magistrate  who  admin- 
isters the  executive  government.  The  only  plan  which  seems 
to  render  the  legal  maintenance  of  a  clergy  practicable,  without 
the  legal  preference  of  one  sect  of  Christians  to  others,  is  that 
of  an  experiment  which  is  said  to  be  attempted  or  designed  in 
some  of  the  new  states  of  North  America.  The  nature  of  the 
plan  is  thus  described  : — A  tax  is  levied  upon  the  inhabitants  for 


ANt>  TOLERATION.  399 

ihd  gehetal  support  of  religion  ;  the  collector  of  the  tax  goes 
round  with  a  register  in  his  hand,  in  which  are  inserted,  at  the 
head  of  so  many  distinct  columns,  the  names  of  the  several  reli- 
gious sects,  that  are  professed  in  the  country.  The  person  who 
is  called  upon  for  the  assessment,  as  soon  as  he  has  paid  his  quo- 
ta, subscribes  his  hame  and  the  sum  in  which  of  the  columns  he 
pleases  ;  and  the  amount  of  what  is  collected  in  each  column  is 
paid  over  to  the  minister  of  that  denomipation.  In  this  scheme 
it  is  not  left  to  the  option  of  the  subjectj  whether  he  will  contri- 
bute, or  how  much  he  shall  contribute  to  the  maintenance  of  a 
Christian  ministry  ;  it  is  only  referred  to  his  choice  to  determine 
by  what  sect  his  contribution  shall  be  received.  The  above  ar- 
rangement is  undoubtedly  the  best  that  has  been  proposed  upon 
this  principle  :  it  bears  the  appearance  of  liberality  and  justice  ; 
it  may  contain  some  solid  advantages  •  nevertheless,  it  labours 
under  inconveniences  which  will  be  found,  I  think,  upon  trial,  to 
overbalance  all  its  recommendations.  It  is  scarcely  compatible 
with  that,  which  is  the  first  requisite  in  an  ecclesiastical  estab- 
lishment,— the  division  of  the  country  into  parishes  of  a  commo- 
dious extent.  If  the  parishes  be  small,  and  ministers  of  every 
denomination  be  stationed  in  each  (which  the  plan  seems  to  sup- 
pose,) the  expense  of  their  maintenance  will  become  too  burthen- 
some  a  charge  far  the  country  to  support.  If,  to  reduce  the  ex- 
pense, the  districts  be  enlarged,  the  place  of  assembling  will  of- 
tentimes be  too  far  removed  from  the  residence  of  the  persona 
who  ought  to  resort  to  it.  Again,  the  making  the  pecuniary  suc- 
cess of  the  different  teachers  of  religion  to  depend  upon  the  num- 
ber and  wealth  of  their  respective  followers,  would  naturally 
generate  strifes  and  indecent  Jealousies  amongst  them  ;  as  well  as 
produce  a  polemical  and  proselyting  spirit,  founded  in  or  mixed 
with  views  of  private  gain,  which  would  both  deprave  the  princi- 
ples of  the  clergy  and  distract  the  country  with  endless  contentions. 
The  argument,  then,  by  which  ecclesiastical  establishments 
are  defended,  proceeds  by  these  steps.  The  knowledge  and  pro- 
fession of  Christianity  cannot  be  upheld  without  a  c]ers:y  ;  a 
52 


400  RELIGIOUS  ESTABLISHMENTS, 

clergy  cannot  be  supported  without  a  legal  provision  ;  a  legal 
provision  for  the  clergy  cannot  be  constituted  without  the  pre- 
ference of  one  sect  of  Christians  to  the  rest  :  and  the  conclusion 
will  be  satisfactory  in  the  degree  in  which  the  truth  of  these  sev- 
eral propositions  can  be  made  out. 

If  it  be  deemed  expedient  to  establish  a  national  religion,  that 
is  to  say,  one  sect  in  preference  to  all  others  ;  some  test,  by  which 
the  teachers  of  that  sect  may  be  distinguished  from  the  teachers 
of  different  sects,  appears  to  be  an  indispensable  consequence. 
The  existence  of  such  an  establishment  supposes  it  :  the  very 
notion  of  a  national  religion  includes  that  of  a  test. 

But  this  necessity,  which  is  real,  hath,  according  to  the  fash- 
ion of  human  affairs,  furnished  to  almost  every  church  a  pretence 
for  extending,  multiplying,  and  continuing  such  tests  beyond 
what  the  occasion  justified.  For  though  some  purposes  of  order 
and  tranquillity  may  be  answered  by  the  establishment  of  creeds 
and  confessions,  yet  they  are  all  at  times  attended  with  serious 
fnconveniencies.  They  check  inquiry  ;  they  violate  liberty  ; 
they  ensnare  the  consciences  of  the  clergy,  by  holding  out  temp- 
tations to  prevarication  ;  however  they  may  express  the  persua- 
sion, or  be  accommodated  to  the  controversies,  or  to  the  fears 
of  the  age  in  which  they  are  composed,  in  process  of  time,  and 
by  reason  of  the  changes  which  are  wont  to  take  place  in  the 
judgment  of  niankind  upon  religious  subjects,  they  comd'  at 
length  to  contradict  the  actual  opinions  of  the  church,  whose 
doctrines  they  profess  to  contain  ;  and  they  often  perpetuate 
the  proscriptions  of  sects  and  tenets,  from  which  any  danger  has 
long  ceased  to  be  apprehended. 

It  may  not  follow  from  these  objections,  that  tests  and  sub- 
scriptions ought  to  be  abolished  ;  but  it  follows,  that  they  ought 
to  be  made  as  simple  and  easy  as  possible  ;  that  they  should 
be  adapted  from  time  to  time  to  the  varying  sentiments  and  cir- 
cumstances of  the  church  in  which  they  are  received  :  and  that 
they  should  at  no  time  advance  one  step  further  than  some  sub- 
sisting necessity  requires.     If,  for  instance,  promises  of  conform- 


A'NT)  TOLERATION.  '401 

ity-  to  the  rites,  liturgy,  and  offices  of  the  church,  be  sufficient  to 
prevent  contusion  and  disorder  in  the  celebration  of  divine  wor- 
ship, then  such  promises  ought  to  be  accepted  in  the  place  of 
stricter  subscriptions.  If  articles  of  peace,  as  they  are  called, 
that  is,  engagements  not  to  preach  certain  doctrines,  nor  to  re- 
vive certain  controversies,  would  exclude  indecent  altercations 
amongst  the  national  clergy,  as  well  as  secure  to  the  public 
teaching  of  religion  as  much  of  uniformity  and  quiet  as  is  neces- 
sary to  edification  ;  then  confessions  of  faith  ought  to  be  convert- 
ed into  articles  of  peace.  In  a  word,  it  ought  to  be  held  a  suffi- 
cient reason  for  rjelaxing  the  terms  of  subscription,  or  for  drop- 
ping any  or  all  of  the  articles  to  be  subscribed,  that  no  pres- 
ent necessity  requires  the  strictness  which  is  complained  of,  or 
that  it  should  be  extended  to  so  many  points  of  doctrine. 

The  division  of  the  country  into  districts,  and  the  stationing 
in  each  district  a  teacher  of  religion,  forms  the  substantial  part 
of  every  church  establishment.  The -varieties  that  have  been 
introduced  into  the  government  and  discipline  of  different  church- 
es, are  of  inferior  importance,  when  compared  with  this,  in  which 
they  all  agree.  Of  these  economical  questions,  none  seems 
more  material  than  that  which  has  been  long  agitated  in  the  re- 
formed churches  of  Christendom,  whether  a  parity  amongst  the 
clergy,  or  a  distinction  of  orders  in  the  ministry,  be  more  con- 
ducive to  the  general  ends  of  the  institution.  In  favour  of  that 
system  which  the  laws  of  this  country  have  preferred,  we  may 
allege  the  following  reasons  : — That  it  secures  tranquillity  and 
subordination  amongst  the  clergy  themselves  ;  that  it  corresponds 
with  the  gradations  of  rank  in  civil  life,  and  provides  for  the 
edification  of  each  rank,  by  stationing  in  each  an  order  of  clergy 
of  their  own  class  and  quality  ;  and,  lastly,  that  the  same  fund 
produces  more  effect,  both  as  an  allurement  to  men  of  talents  to 
center  into  the  church,  and  as  a  stimulus  to  the  industry  of  those 
who  are  already  in  it,  when  distributed  into  prizes  of  different 
value  than  when  divided  into  equal  shares. 

After  the  state  has  once  established  a  particular  system  of 


4/32  RELIGIOUS  ESTABLISHMENTS, 

faith  as  a  national  religion,  a  question  will  soon  occur,  concern- 
ing the  treatment  and  toleration  of  those  who  dissent  from  it. 
This  question  is  properly  preceded  by  another,  concerning  the 
right  which  the  civil  magistrate  possesses  to  interfere  in  matters 
of  religion  at  all  ;  for  although  this  right  be  acknowledged  whilst 
he  is  employed  solely  in  providing  means  of  public  instruction, 
it  will  probably  be  disputed,  (indeed,  it  ever  has  been,)  when 
he  proceeds  to  inflict  penalties,  to  impose  restraints  or  incapac- 
ities on  the  account  of  religious  distinctions.  They  who  ac- 
knowledge no  other  just  original  of  civil  government,  than  what 
is  founded  in  some  stipulation  with  its  subjects,  are  at  liberty  t6 
contend  that  the  concerns  of  religion  were  excepted  out  of  the 
social  compact ;  that,  in  an  affair  which  can  only  be  transacted 
between  God  and  a  man's  own  conscience,  no  commission  or  au- 
thority was  ever  delegated  to  the  civil  magistrate,  or  could  in- 
deed be  transferred  from  the  person  himself  to  any  other.  We, 
however,  who  have  rejected  this  theory,  because  we  cannot  dis- 
cover any  actual  contract  between  the  state  and  the  people,  aad 
because  we  cannot  allow  an  arbitrary  fiction  to  be  made  the 
foundation  of  real  rights  and  of  real  obligations,  find  ourselves 
precluded  from  this  distinction.  The  reasoning  which  deduces 
the  authority  of  civil  government  from  the  will  of  God,  and 
which  collects  that  will  from  public  expediency  alone,  binds  us 
to  the  unrese»ved  conclusion,  that  the  jurisdiction  of  the  magis- 
trate is  limited  by  no  consideration  but  that  of  general  utility  ; 
in  plainer  terms  that  whatever  be  the  subject  to  be  regulated,  it 
is  lawful  for  him  to  interfere  whenever  his  interference,  in  its 
general  tendency,  appears  to  be  conducive  to  the  common  inter- 
est. There  is  nothing  in  the  nature  of  religion,  as  such,  which 
exempts  it  from  the  authority  of  the  legislator,  when  the  safety 
or  welfare  of  the  community  requires  his  interposition.  It  ha? 
been  said,  indeed,  that  religion,  pertaining  to  the  interests  of  a 
life  to  come,  lies  beyond  the  province  of  civil  government,  the 
office  of  which  is  confined  to  the  afi'airs  of  this  life.  But  in  re- 
ply to  this  objection  it  may  be  observed,  that  when  the  laws  in- 


AND  TOLERATION.  403 

terfeve  even  in  religion,  they  interfere  only  with  temporals ; 
their  effects  terminate,  their  power  operates  only  upon  those 
rights  and  interests  which  confessedly  belong  to  their  disposal. 
The  acts  of  the  legislature,  the  edicts  of  the  prince,  the  sentence 
of  the  judge  cannot  effect  my  salvation  ;  nor  do  they,  without  the 
most  absurd  arrogance,  pretend  to  any  such  power  ;  but  they 
may  deprive  me  of  liberty,  of  property,  and  even  of  life  it- 
self, on  account  of  my  religion  ;  and  however  I  may  complain  of 
the  sentence  by  which  I  am  condemned,  I  cannot  allege,  that 
the  magistrate  has  transgressed  the  boundaries  of  his  jurisdic- 
tion ;  because  the  property,  the  liberty,  and  the  life  of  the  sub- 
ject, may  be  taken  away  by  the  authority  of  the  laws,  for  any 
reason,  which,  in  the  judgment  of  the  legislature,  renders  such 
a  measure  necessary  to  the  common  welfare.  Moreover,  as  the 
precepts  of  religion  may  regulate  all  the  offices  of  life,  or  may 
be  so  construed  as  to  extend  to  all,  the  exemption  of  religion 
from  the  control  of  human  laws  might  afford  a  plea,  which  would 
exclude  civil  government  from  every  authority  over  the  conduct 
of  its  subjects.  Religious  liberty,  is  like  civil  liberty,  not  an 
immunity  from  restraint,  but  the  being  restrained  by  no  law, 
but  what  in  a  greater  degree  conduces  to  the  public  welfare. 

Still  it  is  right  "to  obey  God  rather  than  man."  Nothing  that  we 
have  said  encroaches  upon  the  truth  of  this  sacred  and  undisputed 
maxim  :  the  right  of  the  magistrate  to  ordain,  and  the  obligation 
of  the  subject  to  obey,  in  matters  of  religion,  may  be  very  differ- 
ent ;  and  will  be  so,  as  often  as  they  flow  from  opposite  apprehen- 
sions of  the  divine  will.  In  affairs  that  are  properly  of  a  civil 
nature,  in  "  the  things  that  are  Caesar's,"  this  difference  seldom 
happens.  The  law  authorizes  the  act  which  it  enjoins  ;  revela- 
tion being  either  silent  upon  the  subject,  or  referring  to  the  laws 
of  the  country,  or  requiring  only  that  men  act  by  some  fixed  rule, 
and  that  this  rule  be  established  by  competent  authority.  But 
when  human  laws  interpose  their  direction  in  matters  of  religion, 
by  dictating  for  example,  the  objector  the  mode  of  divine  wor- 
ship ;  by  prohibiting  the  profession  of  some  articles  of  faith,  and 


•104  RKLIGIOUS  ESTABLISHMENTS, 

by  exacting  that  of  others,  they  are  liable  to  clash  with  what  pri- 
vate persor.s  believe  to  be  already  settled  by  precepts  of  reve- 
lation ;  or  to  contradict  what  God  himself,  they  think,  hath  de- 
clared to  be  true.  In  tiiis  case,  on  whichever  side  the  mistake 
lies,  or  whatever  pica  the  state  ma}'  allege  to  justify  its  edict, 
the  subject  can  have  none  to  excuse  his  compliance.  The  same 
consideralron  also  points  out  the  distinction,  as  to  the  authority 
of  the  state,  between  temporals  and  spirituals.  The  magistrate 
is  not  to  be  obeyed  in  »ne,  any  more  than  in  the  other,  where 
any  repugnancy  is  perceived  between  his  commands  and  certain 
credited  manifestations  of  the  divine  will  ;  but  such  repugnan- 
cies are  much  less  likely  to  arise  in  one  case  than  the  other. 

When  we  grant  that  it  is  lawful  for  the  magistrate  to  interfere 
in  religion  as  often  as  his  inteference  appears  to  him  to  conduce, 
in  its  general  tendency,  to  the  public  happiness  ;  it  may  be  ar- 
gued from  this  concession,  tliat  since  salvation  is  the  highest  in- 
tei'cst  of  mankind,  and  since,  consequently,  to  advance  that  is 
to  promote  the  public  happiness  in  the  best  way,  and  in  the 
greatest  degree  in  which  it  can  be  promoted,  it  follows,  that  it  is 
not  only  the  right,  but  the  duty  of  every  magistrate,  invested 
with  supreme  power,  to  enforce  upon  his  subjects  the  reception" 
of  that  religion  which  he  deems  most  acceptable  to  God,  and  to 
enforce  it  by  such  methods  as  may  appear  most  effectual  for  the 
end  proposed.  A  popish  king-,  for  example,  who  should  believe 
that  salvation  is  not  attainable  out  of  the  precincts  of  the  Romish 
church,  would  derive  a  right  from  our  principles  (not  to  say  that 
he  would  be  bound  by  them)  to  employ  the  power  witli  which 
the  constitution  entrusted  him,  and  which  power,  in  absolute 
monarchies,  commands  the  lives  and  fortunes  of  every  subject  of 
the  emp4re,  in  reducing  his  people  within  that  communion.  We 
confess  that  this  consequence  is  inferred  from  the  principles  we 
have  laid  down  concerning  the  foundation  of  civil  authority,  not 
without  the  resemblance  of  a  rej^ular  deduction  :  we  confess  al- 
so, that  it  is  a  conclusion  which  it  behoves  us  to  dispose  of;  be- 
cause, if  it  really  follows  from  our  theory  of  government,  the 


AND  TOLERATION.  405 

theory  itself  ought  to  be  given  up.  Now  it  will  be  remembered, 
that  the  terms  of  our  proposition  are  these  :  "  That  it  is  lawful 
•*  for  the  magistrate  to  interfere  in  the  affairs  of  religion,  when- 
"  ever  his  interference  appears  to  him  to  conduce,  by  its  gener- 
"  al  tendency,  to  the  public  happiness."  The  clause  of  "  gen- 
"  eral  tendency,"  when  this  rule  comes  to  be  applied,  will  be 
found  a  very  significant  part  of  the  direction.  It  obliges  the 
magistrate  to  reflect,  not  only  whether  the  religion  which  he 
W'ishes  to  propagate  amongst  his  subjects,  be  that  which  will 
best  secure  their  eternal  welfare  ;  not  only  whether  the  methods 
he  Employs  be  likely  to  effectuate  the  establishment  of  that  re- 
ligion ;  but  also  upon  this  further  question,  whether  the  kind  of 
interference  which  he  is  about  to  exercise,  if  it  were  adopted  as 
a  common  maxim  amongst  states  and  princes,  or  received  as  a 
general  rule  for  the  conduct  of  government  in  matters  of  religion, 
would,  upon  the  whole,  and  in  the  mass  of  instances  in  which 
his  example  might  be  imitated,  conduce  to  the  furtherance  of 
human  salvation.  If  the  magistrate,  for  example,  should  think, 
that  although  the  application  of  his  power  might,  in  the  instance 
concerning  which  he  deliberates,  advance  the  true  religion,  and 
together  with  it  the  happiness  of  his  people,  yet  that  the  same 
engine  in  another's  hands,  who  might  assume  the  right  to  use  it 
with  the  like  pretensions  of  reason  and  authority  that  he  himself 
a'lleges,  would  more  frequently  shut  out  truth,  and  obstruct  the 
means  of  salvation  ;  he  would  be  bound  by  this  opinion-,  still 
admitting  public  utility  to  be  the  supreme  rule  of  his  conduct  to 
refrain  from  expedients  which,  whatever  particular  effects  he 
may  expect  from  them,  are,  in  their  general  operation,  danger- 
ous or  hurtful.  If  there  be  any  difficulty  in  the  subject,  it  aris- 
es from  that  which  is  the  cause  of  every  difficulty  in  morals, — 
the  competition  of  particular  and  general  consequences  ;  or, 
what  is  tbe  same  thing,  the  submission  of  one  general  rule  to  an- 
other rule  which  is  still  more  general. 

Bearing,  then,  in  mind,  that  it  is  the  general  tendency  of  the 
meSsure,   or,  in  other  words,  the  effects  which  would  arise  from 


406  RELIGIOUS  ESTABLISHMENTS, 

the  measure  being  generally  adopted,  that  fixes  upon  it  the  char- 
acter of  rectitude  or  injustice,  we  proceed  to  inquire  what  is  the 
degree  and  thcsort  of  interference  of  secular  laws  in  matters  of 
religion,  which  are  likely  to  be  beneficial  to  .the  public  happi- 
ness.    There  are  two  maxims  which   will   in  a  great  measure 
regulate  our  conclusions  upon  this  head.     The  first  is,  that  any 
form  of  Christianity  is  better  than  no  religion  at  all  ;  the  second, 
that  of  different  systems  of  faith,  that  is  the  best  which  is  the 
truest.     The  first  of  these   positions  will  hardly  be  disputed, 
when  we  reflect  that  every  sect  and  modification  of  Christianity 
holds  out  the  happiness  and  misery  of  another  life,  as  depend- 
ing chiefly  upon  the  practice  of  virtue  or  of  vice  in  this  ;  and 
that  the  distinctions  of  virtue  and  vice  are  nearly  the  same  in 
all.     A  person  who  acts  under  the  impression  of  these  hopes 
and  fears,  though  combined  with  many  errors  and  superstitions, 
is  more  likely  to  advance  both  the  public  happiness  and  his 
own,  than  one  who  is  destitute  of  all  expectation  of  a  future  ac- 
count.    The  latter  proposition  is  founded  in  the  consideration, 
that  the  principal  importance  of  religion  consists  in  its  influence 
upon  the  fate  and  condition  of  a  future  existence.     This  influ- 
ence belongs  only  to  that  religion  which  comes  from  God.     A 
political  religion  may  be  framed,  which  shall  embrace  the  pur- 
poses,  and  describe  the  duties,  of  political   society  perfectly 
well  ;  but  if  it  be  not  delivered  by  God,  what  assurance  does  it 
afford,  that    the    decisions  of  the    divine  judgment  will   have 
any  regard  to  the  rules  which   it  contains  ?  By  a  man  who  acts 
with  a  view  to  a  future  judgment,  the  authority  of  a  religion  is 
the  first  thing  inquired  after  ;  a  religion  which  wants  authority, 
with  him  wants  every  thing.     Since,  then,  this  authority  apper- 
tains, not  fo  the   religion  which  is  most  commodious, — to  the 
religion  which   is  most  sublime  and  efficacious, — to  the  religion 
which  suits  best  with  the  constitution,  or  seems  most  calculated 
to  uphold  the  power  and  stability  of  civil  government,  but  on- 
ly to  that  religion  which  comes  from  God  ;  we  are  justified  in 
pronouncing  the  true  religion,  by  its  very  truthy  and  independ- 


AND  TOLERATION.  407 

eiitiy  of  all  considerations  of  tendencies,  aptnesses,  or  any  other 
internal  qualities  whatever,  to  be  universally  the  best. 

From  the  first  proposition  follows  this  inference,  that  when 
the  state  enables  its  subjects  to  learn  some  form  of  Christianity, 
by  distributing  teachers  of  a  religious  system  throughout  the 
country,  and  by  providing  for  the  maintenance  of  these  teachers 
at  the  public  expense  ;  that  is,  in  fewer  terms,  when  the  laws 
establish  a  national  religion,  they  exercise  a  power  and  an  inter- 
ference which  are  likely,  in  their  general  tendency,  to  promote 
the  interest  of  mankind  ;  for  even  supposing  the  species  of  Chris- 
tianity which  the  laws  patronize  to  be  erroneous  and  corrupt, 
yet  when  the  option  lies  between  this  religion  and  no  religion  at 
all,  (which  would  be  the  consequence  of  leaving  the  people 
without  any  public  means  of  instruction,  or  any  regular  celebra- 
tion of  the  offices  of  Christianity,)  our  proposition  teaches  us  that 
the  former  alternative  is  constantly  to  be  preferred. 

But  after  the  right  of  the  magistrate  to  establish  a  particular 
religion  has  been,  upon  this  principle,  admitted,  a  doubt  some- 
times presents  itself,  whether  the  religion  which  we  ought  to  es- 
tablish, be  that  which  he  himself  professes,  or  that  which  he  ob- 
serves to  prevail  amongst  the  majority  of  the  people.  Now, 
when  we  consider  this  question,  with  a  view  to  the  formation  of 
a  general  rule  upon  the  subject,  (which  view  alone  can  furnish  a 
just  solution  of  the  doubt,)  it  must  be  assumed  to  be  an  equal 
chance  whether  of  the  two  religions  contains  more  of  truth, — that 
of  the  magistrate,  or  that  of  the  people.  The  chance  then  that 
is  left  to  truth  being  equal  upon  both  suppositions,  the  remaining 
consideration  will  be,  from  which  arrangement  more  efficacy  can 
be  expected  ; — from  an  order  of  men  appointed  to  teach  the 
people  their  own  religion,  or  to  convert  them  to  another  ?  In  my 
opinion  the  advantage  lies  on  the  side  of  the  former  scheme  ;  and 
this  opinion,  if  it  be  assented  to,  makes  it  the  duty  of  the  magis- 
trate, in  the  choice  of  the  religion  which  he  establishes,  to  con- 
sult the  faith  of  the  nation  rather  than  his  own. 

The  case  also  of  dissenters  must  be  determined  by  the  prin- 
53 


408  RELIGIOUS  ESTABLISHMENTS, 

ciples  just  now  stated.  Toleration  is  of  two  kinds  ; — the  allow- 
ing to  dissenters  the  unmolested  profession  and  exercise  of  their 
religion,  but  with  an  exclusion  from  offices  of  trust  and  emolu- 
ment in  the  slate  ;  which  is  a  partial  toleration  :  and  the  admit- 
ting them,  without  distinction,  to  all  the  civil  privileges  and  ca- 
pacities of  other  citizens  ;  which  is  a  complete  toleration.  The 
expediency  of  toleration,  and,  consequently,  the  right  of  every 
citizen  to  demand  it,  as  far  as  relates  to  liberty  of  conscience, 
and  the  claim  of  being  protected  in  the  free  and  safe  profession 
s>f  his  religion,  is  deducible  from  the  second  of  these  propositions, 
which  we  have  delivered  as  the  grounds  of  our  conclusions  upon 
the  subject.  That  proposition  asserts  truth,  and  truth  in  the  ab- 
stract, to  be  the  supreme  perfection  of  every  religion.  The  ad- 
vancement, consequently,  and  discovery  of  truth,  is  that  end  to 
which  all  regulations  concerning  religion  ought  principally  to  be 
adapted.  Now,  every  species  of  intolerance  which  enjoins  sup- 
pression and  silence,  and  every  species  of  persecution  which  en- 
forces such  injunctions,  is  adverse  to  the  progress  of  truth  ;  for- 
asmuch as  it  causes  that  to  be  fixed  by  one  set  of  men,  at  one 
time,  which  is  much  better,  and  with  much  more  probability  of 
success,  left  to  the  independent  and  progressive  inquiries  of  sep- 
arate individuals.  Truth  results  from  discussion  and  from  con- 
troversy ;  is  investigated  by  the  labours  and  researches  of  pri- 
vate persons.  Whatever,  therefore,  prohibits  these,  obstructs 
that  industry  and  that  liberty,  which  it  is  the  common  interest  of 
mankind  to  promote.  In  religion,  as  in  other  subjects,  truth,  if 
left  to  itself,  will  almost  always  obtain  the  ascendancy.  If  dif- 
ferent religions  be  professed  in  the  same  country,  and  the  minds 
of  men  remain  unfettered  and  unawed  by  intimidations  of  law, 
that  religion  which  is  founded  in  maxims  of  reason  and  credibil- 
ity, will  gradually  gain  over  the  other  to  it.  I  do  not  mean  that 
men  will  formally  renounce  their  ancient  religion,  but  that  they 
will  adopt  into  it  the  more  rational  doctrines,  the  improvements 
and  discoveries,  of  the  neighbouring  sect  ;  by  which  means  the 
worse  religion,  without  the  ceremony  of  a  reformation,  will  in- 


AND  TOLERATION.  40S 

iiensibly  assimilate  itself  to  the  better.  If  Popery,  for  instance, 
and  Protestantism  were  permitted  to  dwell  quietly  together,  Pa- 
pists might  not  become  Protestants,  (for  the  name  is  commonly 
the  last  thing  that  is  changed,)*  but  they  would  become  morp 
enlightened  and  informed  ;  they  would  by  little  and  little  incor- 
porate into  their  creed  many  of  the  tenets  of  Protestantism,  as 
well  as  imbibe  a  portion  of  its;  spirit  and  moderation. 

The  justice  and  expediency  of  toleration  we  found  primarily 
in  its  conduciveness  to  truth,  and  in  the  superior  value  of  truth 
to  that  of  any  other  quality  which  a  religion  can  possess  :  this  is 
the  principal  argument  ;  but  there  are  some  auxiliary  considera- 
tions, too  important  to  be  omitted.  The  confining  of  the  subject 
to  the  religion  of  the  state,  is  a  needless  violation  of  natural  lib- 
erty, and  in  an  instance  in  which  constraint  is  always  grievous. 
Persecution  produces  no  sincere  conviction,  nor  any  real  change 
of  opinion  ;  on  the  contrary,  it  vitiates  the  public  morals,  by 
driving  men  to  prevarication,  and  commonly  ends  in  a  general 
though  secret  infidelity,  by  imposing,  under  the  name  of  revealed 
religion,  systems  of  doctrine  which  men  cannot  believe,  and  dare 
not  examine  :  finally,  it  disgraces  the  character,  and  wounds 
the  reputation  of  Christianity  itself,  by  making  it  the  author 
of  oppression,  cruelty,  and  bloodshed. 

Under  the  idea  of  religious  toleration,  I  include  the  toleration 
of  all  books  of  serious  argumentation  :  but  1  deem  it  no  infringe- 
ment of  religious  liberty,  to  restrain  the  circulation  of  ridicule, 
invective,  and  mockery,  upon  religious  subjects  ;  because  this 
species  of  writing  applies  solely  to  the  passions,  weakens  the 
judgment,  and  contaminates  the  imagination  of  its  readers  ;  has 
no  tendency  whatever  to  assist  either  the  investigation  or  the 
impression  of  truth  :  on  the  contrary,  whilst  it  stays  not  to  dis- 
tinguish the  character  or  authority  of  different  religions,  it  de- 
stroys alike  the  influence  of  all. 

*  Would  we  let  the  name  stand,  we  might  often  attract  men,  without 
their  perceiving  it,  much  nearer  to  ourselves,  than,  if Ihey  did  perceive  it. 
they  wouM  be  willing  to  come. 


410  RELIGIOUS  ESTABLISHMENTS, 

Concerning  the  admission  of  dissenters  from  the  established 
religion  to  offices  and  employments  in  the  public  service,  (which 
is  necessary  to  render  toleration  complete,)  doubts  have  been  en- 
tertained, with  some  appearance  of  reason.  It  is  possible  that 
such  religious  opinions  may  be  holden,  as  are  utterly  incompat- 
ible with  the  necessary  functions  of  civil  government  ;  and  which 
opinions  consequently  disqualify  those  who  maintain  them,  from 
exercising  any  share  in  its  administration.  There  have  been 
enthusiasts  who  held  that  Christianity  has  abolished  all  distinc- 
tion of  property,  and  that  she  enjoins  upon  her  followers  a  com- 
munity of  goods.  With  what  tolerable  propriety  could  one  of 
this  sect  be  appointed  a  judge  or  a  magistrate,  whose  office  it  is  to 
decide  upon  questions  of  private  right,  and  to  protect  men  in  the 
exclusive  enjoyment  of  their  property  ?  It  would  be  equally  ab- 
surd to  entrust  a  military  command  to  a  Quaker,  who  believes  it 
to  be  contrary  to  the  Gospel  to  take  up  arms.  This  is  possible  ; 
therefore  it  cannot  be  laid  down  as  a  universal  truth,  that  religion 
is  not  in  its  nature,  a  cause  which  will  justify  exclusion  from  pub- 
lic employments.  When  we  examine,  however,  the  sects  of 
Christianity  which  actually  .prevail  in  the  world,  we  must  con- 
fess that,  with  the  single  exception  of  refusing  to  bear  arms, 
we  find  no  tenet  in  any  of  them  which  incapacitates  men  for  the 
service  of  the  state.  It  has  indeed  been  asserted,  that  discord- 
ancy of  religions,  even  supposing  each  religion  to  be  free  from 
any  errors  that  affect  the  safety  or  the  conduct  of  government,  is 
enough  to  render  men  unfit  to  act  together  in  public  stations. 
But  upon  what  argument,  or  upon  what  experience  is  this  asser- 
tion founded  ?  I  perceive  no  reason  why  men  of  different  reli- 
gious persuasions  may  not  sit  upon  the  same  bench,  deliberate 
in  the  same  council,  or  fight  in  the  same  ranks,  as  well  as  men 
of  various  or  opposite  opinions  upon  any  controverted  topic  of 
natural  philosophy,  history,  or  ethics. 

There  are  two  cases  in  which  test  laws  are  wont  to  be  applied, 
and  in  which,  if  in  any,  they  may  be  defended.  One  is,  where 
two  or  more  religions  are  contending  for  establishment  ;  ano 


AND  TOLERATlOxN.  411 

where  tiiQ^-e  appears  no  way  of  putting  an  end  to  the  contest,  but 
by  giving  to  oiie  religion  such  a*^3ecided  superiority  in  the  legis- 
lature and  government  of  the  country,  as  to  secure  it  against 
danger  from  any  other.  I  own  that  I  should  assent  to  this  pre- 
caution with  many  scruples.  If  the  dissenters  from  the  estab- 
lishment become  a  majority  of  the  people,  the  establishment  it- 
self ought  to  be  altered  or  qualified.  If  there  exist  amongst  the 
different  sects  of  the  country  such  a  parity  of  numbers,  interest, 
and  power,  as  to  jender  the  preference  of  one  sect  to  the  rest, 
and  the  choice  of  that  sect  a  matter  of  hazardous  success,  and  of 
doubtful  election,  some  plan  similar  to  that  which  is  meditated 
in  North  America,  and  which  we  have  described  in  a  preced- 
ing part  of  the  present  chapter,  may  perhaps  suit  better  with  this 
divided  state  of  public  opinions,  than  any  constitution  of  a  na- 
tional church  whatever.  In  all  other  situations,  the  establish- 
ment will  be  strong  enough  to  maintain  itself.  However,  if  a 
test  be  applicable  with  justice  upon  this  principle  at  all,  it  ought 
to  be  applied  in  regal  governments  to  the  chief  magistrate  him- 
self, whose  power  might  otherwise  overthrow  or  change  the  es- 
tablished religion  of  the  country,  in  opposition  to  the  will  and  sen- 
timents of  the  people. 

The  second  case  of  exclusion,  and  in  which,  I  think,  the  meas- 
ure is  more  easily  vindicated,  is  that  of  a  country  in  which  some 
disaffection  to  the  subsisting  government  happens  to  be  connect- 
ed with  certain  religious  distinctions.  The  state  undoubtedly 
has  a  right  to  refuse  its  power  and  its  confidence  to  those  who 
seek  its  destruction.  Wherefore,  if  the  generality  of  any  reli- 
gious sect  entertain  dispositions  hostile  to  the  constitution,  and 
if  government  have  no  other  way  of  knowing  its  enemies  than  by 
the  religion  which  they  profess,  the  professors  of  that  religion 
may  justly  be  excluded  from  ofl'ices  of  trust  and  authority.  But 
tven  hei-e  it  should  be  observed,  that  it  is  not  against  the  re- 
ligion that  government  shut  its  doors,  but  against  those  political 
principles,  which  however  independent  they  may  be  of  any 
article  of  religious  faith,  the  mpm1)cr!  of  that  community  are 


412  RELIGIOUS  ESTABLISHMENTS, 

found  in  tact  to  hold.  Nor  would  the  legislator  make  religour 
tenets  the  test  of  men's  inclinations  towards  the  state,  if  he  could 
discover  any  other  that  was  equally  certain  and  notorious.  Thus, 
if  the  members  of  the  Romish  church,  for  the  most  part,  adhere 
to  the  interest,  or  maintain  the  right  of  a  foreign  pretender  to  the 
crown  of  these  kingdoms  ;  and  if  there  be  no  way  of  distinguish- 
ing those  who  do  from  those  who  do  not  retain  such  dangerous 
prejudices  ;  government  is  well  warranted  in  fencing  out  the 
whole  se«t  from  situations  of  trust  and  power.  But  even  in  this 
example,  it  is  rot  to  Popery  that  the  laws  object,  but  to  Popery 
as  the  mark  ot  Jacobitism  ;  an  equivocal,  indeed,  and  fallacious 
mark,  but  the  best,  and  perhaps  the  only  one  that  can  be  devised. 
But  then  it  should  be  remembered,  that  as  the  connexion  between 
Popery  and  Jacobitism,  which  is  the  sole  cause  of  suspicion,  and 
the  sole  justification  rtf  those  severe  and  jealous  laws  which  have 
been  enacted  against  the  professors  of  that  religion,  was  accident- 
al in  its  origin,  so  probably  it  will  be  temporary  in  its  duration  ; 
and  that  these  restrictions  ought  not  to  continue  one  day  longer 
than  some  visible  danger  renders  them  necessary  to  the  preser- 
vation of  public  tranquillity. 

After  all  it  may  be  asked,  why  should  not  the  legislator  di- 
rect his  test  against  the  political  principles  themselves  which  he 
wishes  to  exclude,  rather  than  encounter  them  through  the  me- 
dium of  religious  tenets,  the  only  crime  and  the  only  danger  of 
which  consist  in  their  presumed  alliance  with  the  former?  Why 
for  example,  should  a  man  be  required  to  renounce  transubstan- 
tistion  before  he  be  admitted  to  an  oflTice  in  the  state,  when  it 
might  seem  to  be  sufficient  that  he  abjure  the  pretender?  There 
are  but  two  answers  that  can  be  given  to  the  objection  which 
this  question  contains  ;  first,  That  it  is  not  opinions  which  the 
laws  fear,  so  much  as  inclinations  ;  and  that  political  inclinations 
are  not  so  easily  detected  by  the  affirmation  or  denial  of  any  ab- 
stract proposition  in  politics,  as  by  the  discovery  of  the  religious 
creed  with  which  they  are  wont  to  be  united  :  secondly,  That 
when  men  renounce  their  religion,  they  commonly  quit  all  con- 


AND  TOLERATION.  413 

nexion  with  the  members  of  the  church  which  they  have  left, 
that  church  no  longer  expecting  assistance  or  friendship  from 
them  ;  whereas  particular  persons  might  insinuate  themselves 
into  offices  of  trust  and  authority,  by  subscribing  political  asser- 
tions, and  yet  retain  their  predilection  for  the  interests  of  the  re- 
ligious sect  to  which  they  continued  to  belong.  By  which 
means,  government  would  sometimes  find,  thougli  it  could  not 
accuse  the  individual  whom  it  had  received  into  its  service,  of 
disaflfection  to  the  civil  establishment,  yet  that,  through  him,  it 
had  communicated  the  aid  and  influence  of  a  powerful  station  to 
a  party  who  were  hostile  to  the  constitution.  These  answers, 
however,  we  propose  rather  than  defend.  The  measure  cer- 
tainly cannot  be  defended  at  all,  except  where  the  suspected 
union  between  certain  obijioxious  principles  in  politics,  and  cer- 
tain tenets  in  religion,  is  nearly  universal  ;  in  which  case  it 
makes  little  difference  to  the  subscriber  whether  the  test  be  re- 
ligious or  political  ;  and  the  state  is  somewhat  better  secured 
by  the  one  than  the  other. 

The  result  of  our  examination  of  those  general  tendencies,  by 
which  every  interference  of  civil  government  in  matters  of  re- 
ligion ought  to  be  tried,  is  this  :  "  That  a  comprehensive  na- 
"  tional  religion,  guarded  by  a  few  articles  of  peace  and  con- 
"  formity,  together  with  a  legaj  provision  for  the  clergy  of  that 
"  religion  :  and  with  a  complete  toleration  of  all  dissenters  from 
*'  the  established  church,  without  any  other  limitation  or  excep- 
*'  tion  than  what  arises  from  the  conjunction  of  dangerous  politi- 
"  cal  dispositions  with  certain  religious  tenets,  appears  to  be,, 
•'  not  only  the  most  just  and  liberal,  but  the  wisest  and  safest 
"system,  which  a  state  can  adopt ;  inasmuch  as  it  unites. the 
"  several  perfections  which  a  religious  constitution  ought  to  aim 
"  at, — liberty  of  conscience,  vv'ith  means  of  instruction  ;  the 
*'  progress  of  truth,  with  the  peace  of  society  ;  the  right  of  pri~ 
'•'  vate  judgment,  with  the  care  of  the  public  safety." 


414  OF  POPULATION 


CHAPTER  XI. 

OF  POPULATION  AND  PROVISION;  AND  OF  AGRICULTURE 
AND  COMMERCE,  AS  SUBSERVIENT  THERETO. 

THE  final  view  of  all  rational  politics  is,  to  produce  the  great- 
est quantity  of  happiness  in  a  giver\  tract  of  country.  The  rich- 
es, strength,  and  glory  of  nations  ;  the  topics  which  history  cel- 
ebrates, and  which  alone  almost  engage  the  praises,  and  possess 
the  admiration  of  mankind,  have  no  value  further  than  as  they 
contribute  to  this  end.  When  they  interfere  with  it,  they  are 
evils,  and  not  the  less  real  for  the  splendour  that  surrounds  them. 

Secondly,  Although  we  speak  of  communities  as  of  sentient 
beings  ;  although  we  ascribe  to  them  happiness  and  misery,  de- 
sires, interests,  and  passions,  nothing  really  exists  or  feels  but 
individuals.  The  happiness  of  a  people-is  made  up  of  ttJ^  hap- 
piness of  single  persons  ;  and  the  quantity  of  happiness  can  on- 
ly be  augmented  by  increasing  the  number  of  the  percipients, 
or  the  pleasure  of  their  perceptions. 

Thirdly,  Notwithstanding  that  diversity  of  condition,  espe- 
cially different  degrees  of  plenty,  freedom,  and  security,  great- 
ly vary  the  quantity  of  happiness  enjoyed  by  the  same  number 
of  individuals-^  and  notwithstanding  that  extreme  cases  may  be 
found,  of  human  beings  so  galled  by  the  rigours  of  slavery,  that 
the  increase  of  numbers  is  only  the  amplification  of  misery  ;  yet, 
within  certain  limits,  and  within  those  limits  to  which  civil  life 
is  diversified  under  the  temperate  governments  that  obtain  in  Eu- 
rope, it  may  be  affirmed,  I  think,  with  certainty,  that  the  quan- 
tity of  happiness  produced  in  any  given  district,  so  far  depends 
upon  the  number  of  inhabitants  that,  in  comparing  adjoining  pe- 
riods in  the  same  country,  the  collective  happiness  will  be  near- 
ly in  the  exact  proportion  of  the  numbers,  that  is,  twice  the 
number  of  inhabitants  will  produce  double  the  quantity  of  bap- 


AND  PROVISION.  413 

Jiiiiess ;  in  distant  periods,  and  different  countries,  under  great 
changes  or  great  dissimilitude  of  civil  condition,  although  the  pro- 
portion of  enjoyment  may  fall  much  short  of  that  of  the  numbers, 
yet  still  any  considerable  excess  of  numbers  will  usually  carry 
with  it  a  preponderation  of  happiness  ;  that,  at  least,  it  may,  and 
ought  to  be  assumed  in  all  political  deliberations,  that  a  larger 
portion  of  happiness  is  enjoyed  amongst  ten  persons,  possessing 
the  means  of  healthy  subsistence,  than  can  be  produced  by  Jive 
persons,  under  every  advantage  of  power,  affluence,  and  luxury. 

From  these  principles  it  follows,  that  the  quantity  of  happiness 
in  a  given  district,  although  it  is  possible  it  may  be  increased, 
the  number  of  inhabitants  remaining  the  same,  is  chiefly  and 
most  naturally  affected  by  alterati(>n  of  the  numbers  :  that,  con- 
sequently, the  decay  of  population  is  the  greatest  evil  that  a 
state  can  suffer  ;  and  the  improvement  of  it  the  object  which 
ought,  in  all  countries,  to  be  aimed  at,  in  preference  to  every 
other  political  purpose  whatsoever. 

The  importance  of  population,  and  the  superiority  of  zV  to  ev- 
ery other  national  advantage,  are  points  necessary  to  be  incul- 
cated, and  to  be  well  understood  ;  inasmuch  as  false  estimates, 
or  fantastic  notions  of  national  grandeur,  are  perpetually  draw- 
ing the  attention  of  statesmen  and  legislators  from  the  care  of 
this,  which  is,  at  all  times,  the  true  and  absolute  interest  of  a 
country  ;  for  which  reason,  we  have  stated  these  points  with  un- 
usual formality.  We  will  confess,  however,  that  a  competition 
can  seldom  arise  between  the  advancement  of  population  and 
any  measure  of  sober  utility  ;  because,  in  the  ordinary  progress 
of  human  affairs,  whatever  in  any  way  contributes  to  make  a 
people  happier,  tends  to  render  them  more  numerous. 

In  the  fecundity  of  the  human,  as  of  every  other  species  of 
animals,  nature  has  provided  for  an  indefinite  multiplication. 
Mankind  have  increased  to  their  present  number  from  a  single 
pair  :  the  offspring  of  early  marriages,  in  the  ordinary  course  of 
procreation,  do  more  than  replace  the  parents  :  in  countries, 
and  under  circumstances  very  favourable  to  subsistence,  the 
51 


41G  OF  rorULATION' 

population  has  been  doubleel  in  tlie  space  ol  twenty  years  ,  tfie 
havoc  occasioned  by  ^vars,  earthquakes,  famine,  or  pestilence, 
is  usually  repaired  in  a  short  time.  These  indications  suffi- 
ciently demonstrate  the  tendency  of  nature,  in  the  human  spe- 
cies, to  a  continual  increase  of  its  numbers.  It  becomes  there- 
fore a  question  that  may  reasonably  be  propounded.  What  are 
the  causes  which  confine  or  check  the  natural  progress  of  this 
multiplication?  And  the  answer  which  first  presents  itself  to 
the  thoughts  of  the  enquirer  is,  that  the  population  of  a  country 
must  stop  when  the  country  can  maintain  no  more,  that  is,  when 
the  inhabitants  are  already  so  numerous  as  to  exhaust  all  the 
provision  which  the  soil  can  be  made  to  produce.  This,  how- 
ever, though  an  insuperable  bar,  will  seldom  be  found  to  be  that 
which  actually  checks  the  progress  of  population  in  any  country 
of  the  world,  because  the  number  of  the  people  have  seldom,  in 
any  country,  arrived  at  this  limit,  or  even  approached  to  if. 
The  fertility  of  the  ground,  in  temperate  regions,  is  capable  of 
being  improved  by  cultivation  to  an  extent  which  is  unknown  ; 
much,  however,  beyond  the  state  of  improvement  in  any  coun- 
try in  Europe.  In  our  own,  which  holds  almost  the  first  place 
in  the  knowledge  and  encouragement  of  agriculture,  let  it  only 
be  supposed  that  every  field  in  England,  of  the  same  original 
quality  with  those  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  metropolis,  and 
consequently  capable  of  the  same  fertility,  were,  by  a  like  man- 
agement, made  to  yield  an  equal  produce  ;  and  it  may  be  as- 
serted, 1  believe  with  truth,  that  the  quantity  of  human  provi- 
sion raised  in  the  island  would  be  increas»jd  five-fold.  The 
two  principles,  therefore,  upon  which  population  seems  prima- 
rily to  depend,  the  tecundity  of  the  species,  and  the  capacity 
of  the  soil,  would  in  most,  perhaps  in  all  countries  enable  it  to 
proceed  much  further  than  it  has  yet  advanced.  The  number 
of  marriageable  women,  who,  in  each  country,  remain  unmarri- 
ed, afford  a  computation  how  much  the  agency  of  nature  in  the 
diffusion  of  human  life  is  cramped  and  contracted  :  and  the  quan- 
tity of  waste,  neglected,  or  mismanaged  surface, — together  with 


AND  PROVISION.  417 

&  comparison,  like  the  preceding,  of  the  crops  raised  from  the 
soil  in  the  neighbourhooAof  populous  cities,  and  under  a  perfect 
state  of  cultivation  with  those  which  lands  of  equal  or  superior 
-quality  yield  in  different  situations, — will  show  in  what  propor- 
tion the  indigenous  productions  of  the  earth  are  capable  of  being 
further  augmented. 

The. fundamental  proposition  upon  the  subject  of  population^ 
which  must  guide  every  endeavour  to  improve  it,  and  from  which 
every  conclusion  concerning  it  may  be  deduced,  is  this  :  "  Where- 
'  ever  the  commerce  between  the  sexes  is  regulated  by  mar- 
"  riage,  and  a  provision  for  that  mode  of  subsistence,  to  which 
"  each  class  of  the  community  is  accustomed,  can  be  procured 
^'  with  ease  and  certainty,  there  the  number  of  the  people  will 
"  increase  ;  and  the  rapidity,  as  well  as  the  extent  of  the  in- 
"  crease,  will  be  proportioned  to  the  degree  in  which  these 
'^'  causes  exist." 

This  proposition  we  will  draw  out  into  the  several  principles 
which  it  contains. 

I.  First,  the  proposition  asserts  the  "necessity  of  confining 
"  the  intercourse  of  the  sexes  to  the  marriage  union."  It  is  on- 
ly in  the  marriage  union  that  this  intercourse  is  sufficiently  pro- 
lific. Beside  which,  family  establishments  alone  are  fitted  to 
perpetuate  a  succession  of  generations.  The  offspring  of  a  vague 
and  promiscuous  concubinage  are  not  only  few,  and  liable  to 
perish  by  neglect,  but  are  seldom  prepared  for  or  introduced  in- 
to situations  suited  to  the  raising  of  families  of  their  own.  Hence 
the  advantages  of  marriage.  Now  nature,  in  the  constitution  of 
the  sexes,  has  provided  a  stimulus  which  will  infallibly  secure  the 
frequency  of  marriages,  with  all  their  beneficial  effects  upon  the 
state  of  population,  provided  the  male  part  of  the  species  be 
prohibited  from  irregular  gratifications.  This  impulse,  which  is 
sufficient  to  surmount  almost  every  impediment  to  marriage,  will 
operate  in  proportion  to  the  difficulty,  expense,  danger,  or  infa- 
iny,  the  sense  of  guilt,  or  the  fear  of  punishment,  which  attend 
ilioentious  indulgences.     Wherefore,  in  countries  in  which  sub= 


41 S  OF  POPULATION 

sistence  is  become  scarce,  it  behoves  the  state  to  watch  over  the 
public  morals  with  increased  solicitude  ;  for,  nothing  but  the  in- 
stinct of  nature,  under  the  restraint  of  chastity,  will  induce  men 
to  undertake  the  labour,  or  consent  to  the  sacrifice  of  personal 
liberty  and  indulgence,  which  the  support  of  a  family,  in  such 
circumstances,  requires. 

II.   The  second  requisite  which  the  proposition  states  as  neces- 
sary to  the  success  of  population,  is,   "  The  ease  and  certainty 
*'  with  which  a  provision  can  be  procured  for  that  mode  of  sub- 
"  sistence  to  which  each  class  of  the  community  is  accustomed.'' 
!t  is  not  enough  that  men's  natural  wants  be  supplied  ;  that  2t 
provision  adequate  to  the  actual  exigencies  of  human  life  be  at- 
tainable :  habitual  superfluities  become  real  wants  ;  opinion  and 
fashion,  convert  articles  of  ornament  and  luxury  into  necessaries 
of  life.     And  it  must  not  be  expected  from  men  in  general,  at 
least  in  the  present  relaxed  state  of  morals  and  discipline,  that 
they  will  enter  into  marriages  which  degrade  their  condition, 
reduce  their  mode  of  living,  deprive  them  of  the  accommodations 
to  which  they  have  been  accustomed,  or  even  of  those  ornaments 
or  appendages  of  rank  and  station,  which  they  have  been  taught 
to  regard  as  belonging  to  their  birth,  or  class,  or  profession,  or 
place  in  society.     The  same  consideration,  namely,  a  view  to 
their  accustomed  mode  of  life,  which  is  so  apparent  in  the  supe- 
rior orders  of  the  people,  has  no  less  influence  upon  tho^e  ranks 
which  compose  the  mass  of  the  community.      The  kind  and 
quality  of  food  and  liquor,  the  species  of  habitation,  furniture, 
and  clothing,  to  which  the  common  people  of  each  country  are 
habituated,  must  be  attainable  with  ease  and  certainty  before 
marriages  will  be  sufficiently  early  and  general  to  carry  the  prog- 
ress of  population  to  its  just  extent.     It  is  in  vain  to  allege,  that 
a  more  simple  diet,  ruder  habitations,  or  coarser  apparel,  would 
be  sufficient  for  the  purposes  of  life  and  health,  or  even  of  phy- 
sical ease  and  pleasure.     Men  will  not  marry  with  this  encour- 
agement.    For  instance,  when  the  common  people  of  a  country 
RT;  acrnstnmed  to  ^at  a  birge  proportion  of  animal  food,  to  drink 


AND  PROVISION.  419 

wine,  spirits,  or  beer,  to  wear  shoes  and  stockings,  to  dwell  in 
stone  houses,  they  will  not  marry  to  live  in  clay  cottages,  upon 
roots  and  milk,  with  no  other  clothing  than  skins,  or  what  is  ne- 
cessary to  defend  the  trunk  of  the  body  from  the  effects  of  cold  ; 
although  these  last  may  be  all  that  the  sustentation  of  life  and 
health  requires,  or  that  even  contribute  much  to  animal  comfort 
and  enjoyment. 

The  ease,  then,  and  certainty,  with  which  the  means  can  be 
procured,  not  barely  of  subsistence,  but  of  that  mode  of  subsist- 
ing which  custom  hath  in  each  country  established,  form  the  point 
upon  which  the  state  and  progress  of  population  chiefly  depend. 
Now,  there  are  three  causes  which  evidently  regulate  this  point : 
the  mode  itself  of  subsisting  which  prevails  in  the  country  ;  the 
quantity  of  provision  suited  to  that  mode  of  subsistence,  which 
is  either  raised  in  the  country,  or  imported  into  it ;  and,  lastly, 
the  distribution  of  that  provision. 

These  three  causes  merit  distinct  considerations. 

I.  The  mode  of  living  which  actually  obtains  in  a  country. 
In  China,  where  the  inhabitants  frequent  the  sea-shore,  and.  sub- 
sist in  a  great  measure  upon  fish,  the  population  is  described  to 
be  excessive.  This  peculiarity  arises,  not  probably  from  any 
civil  advantages,  any  care  or  policy,  any  particular  constitution 
or  superior  wisdom  of  government,  but  simply  from  hence,  that 
the  species  of  food  to  which  custom  hath  reconciled  the  desires 
and  inclinations  of  the  inhabitants,  is  that  which,  of  all  others,  is 
procured  in  the  greatest  abundance,  with  the  most  ease,  and 
stands  in  need  of  the  least  preparation.  The  natives  of  Indostan 
being  confined,  by  the  laws  of  their  religion,  to  the  use  of  vege- 
table food,  and  requiring  little  except  rice,  which  the  country 
produces  in  plentiful  crops  ;  and  food,  in  warm  climates,  com- 
posing the  only  want  of  life  ;  these  countries  are  populous,  un- 
der all  the  injuries  of  a  despotic,  and  the  agitations  of  an  unset- 
tled government.  If  any  revolution,  or  what  would  be  called 
perhaps  refinement  of  manners,  should  generate  in  these  people 
u  taste  for  the  flesh  of  animals,  similar  to  what  prevails  amongst 


420  OF  POPULATION 

U»e  Arabian  hordes  ;  should  introduce  flocks  and  herds  into 
grounds  which  are  now  covered  with  com  ;  should  leach  them 
to  account  a  certain  portion  of  this  species  of  food  amongst  the 
necessaries  of  life  ;  the  population,  from  this  single  change, 
would  suffer  in  a  few  years  a  great  diminution  :  and  this  diminu- 
tion would  follow,  in  spite  of  every  effort  of  the  laws,  or  even  of 
any  improvement  that  might  take  place  in  their  civil  condition. 
In  Ireland,  the  simplicity  of  living  alone  maintains  a  considera- 
ble degree  of  population,  under  great  defect*  of  police,  industry, 
and  commerce. 

Under  this  head,  and  from  a  view  of  these  considerations,  may 
be  understood  the  true  evil  and  proper  danger  oi  luxury. 

Luxury,  as  it  supplies  employment  and  promotes  Industry,  as- 
sists population.  But  then  there  is  another  consequence  attend- 
ing it,  which  counteracts  and  often  overbalances  these  advantages. 
When,  by  introducing  more  superfluities  into  general  reception, 
luxury  has  rendered  the  usual  accommodations  of  life  more  ex- 
pensive, artificial,  and  elaborate,  the  difficulty  of  maintaining  a 
family,  conformably  with  the  established  mode  of  living,  be- 
comes greater,  and  what  each  man  has  to  spare  from  his  person- 
al consumption  proportionably  less  :  the  eiFecl  of  which  is,  that 
marriages  grow  less  frequent,  agreeably  to  the  maxim  above  laid 
down,  and  which  must  be  remembered  as  the  foundation  of  all 
our  reasoning  upon  the  subject,  that  men  will  not  marry  to  sink 
their  place  or  condition  in  society,  or  to  forego  those  indulgen- 
cies  which  their  own  habits,  or  what  they  observe  amongst  their 
equals,  have  rendered  necessary  to  their  satisfaction.  This 
principle  is  applicable  to  every  article  of  diet  and  dress,  to  hous- 
es, furniture,  attendance  ;  and  this  effect  will  be  felt  in  every 
class  of  the  community.  For  instance,  the  custom  of  wearing 
broad  cloth  and  fine  linen  repays.the  shepherd  and  flax-grower, 
feeds  the  manufacturer,  enriches  the  merchant,  gives  not  only 
support  but  existence  to  multitudes  of  families  :  hitherto,  there- 
fore, the  effects  arc  beneficial  ;  and  were  these  the  only  effects, 
such  elegancies,  or,  if  you  please  to  call  them  so,  such  luxuries. 


AND  PROVISION.  421 

could  not  be  too  universal.  But  here  follows  the  mischief: 
when  once  fashion  hath  annexed  the  use  of  these  articles  of  dress 
to  any  certain  class,  to  the  middling  ranks,  for  example,  of  the 
community,  each  individual  of  that  rank  finds  them  to  be  neces- 
saries of  life  ;  that  is,  finds  himself  obliged  to  comply  with  the 
example  of  his  equals,  and  to  maintain  that  appearance  which 
the  custom  of  society  requires.  This  obligation  creates  such  a 
demand  upon  his  income,  and  withal  adds  so  much  to  the  cost 
and  burthen  of  a  family,  as  to  put  it  out  of  his  power  to  marry, 
with  the  prospect  of  continuing  his  habits,  or  of  maintaining  his 
j)lace  and  situation  in  the  world.  We  see,  in  this  description, 
the  cause  which  induces  men  to  waste  their  lives  in  a  barren  ce- 
libacy ;  and  this  cause,  which  impairs  the  very  source  of  popu- 
lation, is  justly  placed  to  the  account  of  luxury. 

It  appears,  then,  that  luxury^  considered  with  a  view  to  pop- 
ulation, acts  by  two  opposite  effects  ;  and  it  seems  probable, 
that  there  exists  a  point  in  the  scale,  to  which  luxury  may  as- 
cend, or  to  which  the  wants  of  mankind  may  be  multiplied  with 
advantage  to  the  community,  and  beyond  which  the  prejudicial 
effects  begin  to  preponderate.  The  determination  of  this  point, 
though  it  assume  the  form  of  an  arithmetic'al  problem,  depends 
upon  circumstances  too  numerous,  intricate,  anS  undefined,  to 
admit  of  a  precise  solution.  However,  from  what  has  been  ob- 
served concerning  the  tendency  of  luxury  to  diminish  marriages, 
in  which  tendency  the  evil  of  it  resides,  the  following  general 
conclusions  may  be  established. 

1st,  That,  of  different  kinds  of  luxury,  those  are  the  most  in- 
nocent, which  afford  erajiloyment  to  the  greatest  number  of  art- 
ist* and  manufacturers  ;  or  those,  in  other  words,  in  which  the 
price  of  the  woik  bears  the  greatest  proportion  to  that  of  the  raw 
material.  Thus,  luxury  in  dress  or  furniture  is  universally  pre- 
ferable to  luxury  in  eating,  because  the  artTcies  which  constitute 
the  one,  are  more  the  production  of  human  art  and  industry,  than 
those  which  supply  the  other. 

2dly,  That  it  is  the  diffusio7i  rather  than  the  degree  of  luxury. 


422  OF  POPULATION 

which  is  to  be  dreaded  as  a  national  evil.  The  mischief  of  luX 
ury  consists,  as  we  have  seen,  in  the  obstruction  \Yhicl)  it  forms 
to  marriage.  Now,  it  is  only  a  small  part  of  the  people  that  the 
higher  ranks  in  any  country  compose  ;  for  which  reason,  the  fa- 
cility or  the  difficulty  of  supporting  the  expense  of  their  station, 
and  the  consequent  increase  or  diminution  of  marriages  amongst 
them,  will  influence  the  state  of  population  but  little.  So  long 
as  the  prevalency  of  luxury  is  confined  to  a  few  of  elevated  rank, 
much  of  the  benefit  is  felt,  and  little  of  the  inconveniency.  But 
when  the  imitation  of  the  same  manners  descends,  as  it  always 
will  do,  into  the  mass  of  the  people  ;  when  it  advances  the  re- 
quisites of  living  beyond  what  it  adds  to  men's  abilities  to  pur- 
chase them  ;  then  it  is  that  luxury  checks  the  formation  of  fam- 
ilies, in  a  degree  that  ought  to  alarm  the  public  fears. 

3dly,  That  the  condition  most  favourable  to  population  is  that 
of  a  laborious,  frugal  people,  ministering  to  the  demands  of  an 
opulent,  luxurious  nation  ;  because  this  situation,  whilst  it  leaves 
them  every  advantage  of  luxury,  exempts  them  from  the  evils 
which  naturally  accompany  its  admission  into  any  country. 

II.  Next  to  the  mode  of  living,  we  are  to  consider  '*  the  quan- 
*'  tity  of  provision  suited  to  that  mode,  which  is  either  raised  in 
"  the  country,  (St  imported  into  it  :"  for  this  is  the  order  in  which 
we  assigned  the  causes  of  population,  and  undertook  to  treat  of 
them.  Now,  if  we  measure  the  quantity  of  provision  by  the 
number  of  human  bodies  it  will  support  in  due  health  and  vigour, 
this  quantity,  the  extent  and  quality  of  the  soil  from  which  it  is 
raised  being  given,  will  depend  greatly  upon  the  kind.  For  in- 
stance, a  piece  of  ground  capable  of  supplying  animal  food  suf- 
ficient for  the  subsistence  often  persons,  would  sustain,  at  least, 
the  double  of  that  number  with  grain,  roots,  and  milk.  The  first 
resource  of  savage  life  is  in  the  flesh  of  wild  animals  ;  hence  the 
numbers  amongst  savage  nations,  compared  with  the  tract  of  coun- 
try which  they  occupy,  are  universally  small  ;  because  this  spe- 
cies of  provision  is,  of  all  others,  supplied  in  the  slenderest  pro- 
portion.    The  next  step  was  the  invention  of  pasturage,  or  the 


AND  PROVISION.  423 

rearing  of  flock*  and  herds  of  tame  animals  :  this  alteralion  add- 
ed to  the  stock  of  provision  much.  But  the  last  and  principal 
improvement  was  to  follow  ;  namely,  tillage,  or  the  artificial 
production  of  corn,  esculent  plants,  and  roots.  This  discovery, 
whilst  it  changed  the  quality  of  human  food,  augmented  the  quan- 
tity in  a  vast  proportion.  So  far  as  the  state  of  population  is 
governed  and  limited  by  the  quantity  of  provision,  perhaps  there 
is  no  single  cause  that  affects  it  so  powerfully,  as  the  kind  and 
quality  of  food  which  chance  or  usage  hath  introduced  into  a 
country.  In  England,  notwithstanding  the  produce  of  the  soil 
has  been,  of  late,  considerably  increased,  by  the  enclosure  of 
wastes,  and  the  adoption,  in  many  places,  of  a  more  successful 
husbandry,  yet  we  do  not  observe  a  corresponnding  addition  to 
the  number  of  inhabitants  ;  the  reason  of  which  appears  to  me 
to  be  the  more  general  consumption  of  animal  food  amongst  us. 
Many  ranks  of  people,  whose  ordinary  diet  was  in  the  last  cen- 
tury prepared  almost  entirely  from  milk,  roots,  and  vegetables, 
now  require  every  day  a  considerable  portion  of  the  flesh  of  an- 
imals. Hence  a  great  part  of  the  richest  lands  of  the  country 
are  converted  to  pasturage.  Much  also  of  the  bread-corn,  which 
went  directly  to  the  nourishment  of  human  bodies,  now  only  con- 
tributes to  it  by  fattening  the  flesh  of  sheep  and  oxen.  The  mass 
and  volume  of  provisions  are  hereby  diminished  ;^and  what  is 
gained  in  the  melioration  of  the  soil,  is  lost  in  the  quality  of  pro- 
duce. This  consideration  teaches  us,  that  tillage,  as  an  object 
of  national  care  and  encouragement,  is  universally  preferable  to 
pasturage,  because  the  kind  of  provision  which  it  yields  goes 
much  further  in  the  sustentation  of  human  life.  Tillage  is  also 
recommended  by  this  additional  advantage,  that  it  affords  em- 
ployment to  a  much  more  numerous  peasantry.  Indeed,  pas- 
turage seems  to  be  the  art  of  a  nation,  either  imperfectly  civil- 
ized, as  are  many  of  the  tribes  which  cultivate  it  in  the  internal 
parts  of  Asia  ;  or  of  a  nation,  like  Spain,  declining  from  its  sum- 
mit by  luxury  and  inactivity. 

The  kind  and  quality  of  provision,  together  with  the  extent 
55 


lii  OF  POPULATION 

and  capacity  ol'  the  soil  from  which  it  is  raised,  being  the  same 
"die  quantity  procured  will  principally  depend  upon  two  circuni  ■ 
itances, — the  ability  of    the  occupier,  and  the  encoxn-Uircinent 
which  he  receivcsi.     The  greatest  misfortune  of  a  country  is  an 
indigent  tenantry.     Whatever  be  the   native  advantages  of  the 
soil,  or  even  the  skill  and  industry  of  the  occupier,  the  want  of 
a  sufficient  capital  confines  every  plan,  as  well  as  cripples  and 
weakens  every  operation  of  husbandry.     This  evil  is  felt  where 
agriculture  is  accounted  a  servile  or  mean  empvloyment  ;  where 
farms  are  extremely  subdivided,  and  badly  furnished  with  hab- 
itations ;  where  leases  are  unknown,  or  are  of  short  or  precarious 
duration.     With  respect  to  the  encouragement  of  husbandry  ;  in 
this,  as  in  every  other  employment,  the  true  reward  of  industry 
is  in  the  price  and  sale  of  the  produce.     The  exclusive  right  to 
the  produce   is  the  only  incitement  which  acts  constantly  and 
universally  ;  the  only  spring  which  keeps  human  labour  in  mo- 
tion.    All  therefore  that  the  laws  can  do,  is,  to  secure  this  right 
to  the  occupier  of  the  ground,  that  is,  to  constitute  such  a  systeir. 
of  tenure,  that  the  full  and  entire  advantage  of  every  improve- 
ment go  to  the  benefit  of  the  improver  ;  that  every  man  work 
for  himself,  and  not  for  another  ;  and  that  no  one  share  in  the 
profit  who  does  not  assist  in  the  production.     By  the  occupier  I 
here  mean,  not  so  much  the  person  who  performs  the  work,  as 
him  who  procures  the  labour  and  directs  the  management ;  and 
I  consider  the  whole  profit  as  received  by  the  occupier,  when 
the  occupier  is  benefitted  by  the  whole  value  of  what  is  produced; 
which  is  the  case  with  the  tenant  who  pay*  a  fixed  rent  for  the 
use  of  land,  no  less  than  with  the  proprietor  who  holds  it  as  his 
own.     The  one  has  the  same  interest  in  the  produce,  and  in  the 
advantage  of  every  improvement,  as  the  other.     Likewise  the 
proprietor,  though  he  grant  out  his  estate  to  farm,  may  be  con- 
sidered as  the  occupier,  in  so  much  as  he  regulates  the  occupa- 
tion by  the  choice,  superintendency,  and  encouragement  of  his 
tenants,  by  the  disposition  of  his  lands,  by  erecting  buildings, 
providing  accommodations,  by  prescribing  conditions,  or  supply- 


AND  PROVISION.  425 

mg  implements  and  materials  of  improvement ;  and  is  entitled, 
by  the  rule  of  public  expediency  above-mentioned,  to  receive, 
in  the  advance  of  his  rent,  a  share  of  the  benefit  which  arises 
from  the  increased  produce  of  his  estate.  The  violation  of  this 
fundamental  maxim  of  agrarian  policy  constitutes  the  chief  ob- 
jection to  the  holding  of  lands  by  the  state,  by  the  king,  by  cor- 
porate bodies,  by  private  persons  in  right  of  their  ofnces  or  ben- 
efices. The  inconveniency  to  the  public  arises  not  so  much  from 
the  unalienable  quality  of  lands  thus  holden  in  perpetuity,  as 
from  hence,  that  proprietors  of  this  description  seldom  contribute 
much  either  of  attention  or  expense  to  the  cultivation  of  their  es- 
tates, yet  claim,  by  the  rent,  a  share  in  the  profit  of  every  im- 
provement that  is  made  upon  them.  This  complaint  can  only 
be  obviated  by  "  long  leases  at  a  fixed  rent,"  which  conv'ey  a 
large  portion  of  the  interest  to  those  who  actually  conduct  the 
cultivation.  The  same  objection  is  applicable  to  the  holding  of 
lands  by  foreign  proprietors,  and  in  some  degree  to  estates  of 
too  great  extent  being  placed  in  the  same  hands. 

111.  Beside  the  production  o{  provision,  there  remains  to  be 
-considered  the  distribution. — It  is  in  vain  that  provisions 
abound  in  the  country,  unless  I  be  able  to  obtain  a  share  of  them. 
This  reflection  belongs  to  every  individual.  The  plenty  of  pro- 
vision produced,  the  quantity  of  the  public  stock,  affords  sub- 
sistence to  individuals,  and  encouragement  to  the  formation  of 
families,  only  in  proportion  as  it  is  distributed,  that  is,  in  pro- 
portion as  these  individuals  are  allowed  to  draw  from  it  a  supply 
of  their  own  wants.  The  distribution,  therefore,  becomes  of 
equal  consequence  to  populatign  with  the  production.  Now, 
there  is  but  one  principle  of  distribution  that  can  ever  become 
universal,  namely,  the  principle  of  "  exchange  ;"  or,  in  other 
words,  that  every  man  have  something  to  give  in  return  for  wha*: 
he  wants.  Bounty,  however  it  may  come  in  aid  of  another  prin- 
ciple, however  it  may  occasionally  qualify  the  rigour,  or  supply 
the  imperfection  of  an  established  rule  of  distribution,  can  never 
itself  become  that  rule  or  principle  ;  however  it  mar  occ^sion?^  i 


42t»  OF  POPULATION 

qualify  the  rigour,  or  supply  the  imperfection  of  an  established 
rule  of  distribution,  can  never  itself  become  that  rule  or  princi- 
ple ;  because  men  will  not  work  to  give  the  produce  of  their  la- 
bour away.  Moreover,  the  only  equivalents  that  can  be  offered 
in  exchange  for  provision  are,  power  and  labour.  All  property 
is  power.  What  we  call  property  in  land,  is  the  power  to  use 
it,  and  to  exclude  others  from  the  use.  Money  is  the  represen- 
tative of  power,  because  it  is  convertible  into  power  ;  the  value 
of  it  consists  in  its  faculty  of  procuring  power  over  things  and 
persons.  But  pozyer  which  results  from  civil  conventions  (and 
of  this  kind  is  what  we  call  a  man's  fortune  or  estate,)  is  neces- 
sarily confined  to  a  few,  and  is  withal  soon  exhausted  ;  whereas, 
the  capacity  of  labour  is  every  man's  natural  possession,  and 
composes  a  constant  and  renewing  fund.  The  hire,  therefore, 
or  produce  of  personal  industry,  is  that  which  the  bulk  of  every 
community  must  bring  to  market,  in  exchange  for  the  means 
of  subsistence  ;  in  other  words,  employment  must,  in  every 
country,  be  the  medium  of  distribution,  and  the  source  of 
supply  to  individuals.  But  when  we  consider  the  production 
and  distribution  of  provision,  as  distinct  from,  and  independent 
of  each  other  ;  when,  supposing  the  same  quantity  to  be  produ- 
ced, we  inquire  in  what  way,  or  according  to  what  rule,  it  may 
be  distributed,  we  are  led  to  a  conception  of  the  subject  not  at 
all  agreeable  to  truth  and  reality  ;  for,  in  truth  and  reality, 
though  provision  must  be  produced  before  it  be  distributed,  yet 
the  production  depends,  in  a  great  measure,  upon  the  distribu- 
tion. The  quantity  of  provision  raised  out  of  the  ground,  so  far 
as  the  raising  of  it  requires  human  art  or  labour,  will  evidently 
be  regulated  by  the  demand ;  the  demand,  or,  in  other  words, 
the  price  and  sale,  being  that  which  alone  rewards  the  care,  or 
excites  the  diligence  of  the  husbandman.  But  the  sale  of  pro- 
vision depends  upon  the  number,  not  of  those  who  want,  but  of 
those  who  have  something  to  offer  in  return  for  what  they  want ; 
rut  of  those  who  would  consume,  but  of  those  who  can  buy  ;  that 
is,  upon  the  number  of  those  who  have  the  fruits  of  some  o'.her 


J 


AND  PROVISION'.  427 

kind  of  industry  to  tender  in  exchange  for  what  they  stand  in 
need  of  from  the  production  of  the  soil. 

We  see,  therefore  the  connexion  between  population  and  em- 
ployment. Employment  affects  population  "  directly,"  as  it  af- 
fords the  only  medium  of  distribution  by  which  individuals  can 
obtain  from  the  common  stock  a  supply  for  the  wants  of  their 
families  ;  it  affects  population  "  indirectly,"  as  it  augments  the 
?tock  itself  of  provision,  in  the  only  way  by  which  the  produc- 
tion of  it  can  be  effectually  encouraged, — by  furnishing  purchas- 
ers. No  man  can  purchase  without  an  equivalent  ;  and  that 
equivalent,  by  the  generality  of  the  people,  must  in  every 
country  be  derived  from  employment. 

And  upon  this  basis  is  founded  the  public  benefit  of  trade,  that 
is  to  say,  its  subserviency  to  population,  in  which  its  only  real 
titility  consists.  Of  that  industry,  and  of  those  arts  and  branch- 
es of  trade,  which  are  employed  in  the  production,  conveyance, 
and  preparation  of  any  principal  species  of  human  food,  as  of 
the  business  of  the  husbandman,  the  butcher,  baker,  brewer, 
corn-merchant,  &:c.  we  acknowledge  the  necessity  :  likewise  of 
those  manufactures  which  furnish  us  with  warm  clothing,  conve- 
nient habitations,  domestic  utensils,  as  of  the  weaver,  tailor, 
smith,  carpenter,  &:c.  we  perceive  (in  climates,  however,  like 
ours,  removed  at  a  distance  from  the  sun,)  the  conduciveness  to 
population,  by  their  rendering  human  life  more  healthy,  vigorous, 
and  comfortable.  But  not  one  half  of  the  occupations  which 
compose  the  trade  of  Europe,  fall  within  either  of  these  descrip- 
tions. Perhaps  two-thirds  of  the  manufacturers  of  England  are 
employed  upon  the  articles  of  confessed  luxury,  ornament,  or 
splendour  ;  in  the  superfluous  embellishment  of  some  articles 
which  are  useful  in  their  kind,  or  qpon  others  which  have  no 
conceivable  use  or  value,  but  what  is  founded  in  caprice  or  fash- 
ion. What  can  be  less  necessary,  or  less  connected  with  the 
sustentation  of  human  life,  than  the  whole  produce  of  the  silk, 
lace,  and  plate  manufactory  ?  yet  what  multitudes  labour  in  the 
different  branches  of  these  arts !     What  can  be  imajrined  more 


428  OF  AGIIICULTURE, 

■capricious  tlian  the  fondness  for  tobacco  and  snuff  ?  yet  how  ma- 
ny various  occupations,  and  how  many  thousands  in  each,  are 
set  at  work  in  administering  to  this  frivolous  gratification  !  Con- 
corning  trades  of  this  kind  (and  this  kind  comprehends  more  than 
half  of  the  trades  that  arc  exercised,)  it  may  fairly  be  asked, 
"  How,  since  they  add  nothing  to  the  stock  of  provision,  do  they 
"  tend  to  increase  the  number  of  the  people  ?"  We  are  taught 
to  say  of  trade,  "  that  it  maintains  multitudes  ;"'  but  by  what 
means  does  it  maintain  them,  when  it  produces  nothing  upon 
which  the  support  of  human  life  depends  ? — In  like  manner  with 
respect  to  foreign  commerce  j  of  that  merchandise  which  bring? 
the  necessaries  of  life  into  a  country,  which  imports,  for  exam- 
ple, corn,  or  cattle,  or  cloth,  or  fuel,  w'e  allow  the"tendency  to 
advance  population,  because  it  increases  the  stock  of  provision 
by  which  the  people  are  subsis'ted.  But  (his  e0ect  of  foreign 
commerce  is  so  little  seen  in  our  own  country,  that,  I  believe,  it 
may  be  affirmed  of  Great  Britain,  vvlrat  Bishop  Berkley  said  of 
.1  neighbouring  island,  that,  if  it  was  encompassed  with  a  wall 
of  brass  fifty  cubits  high,  the  country  might  maintain  the  same 
number  of  inhabitants  that  find  subsistence  in  it  at  present ;  and 
that  every  necessary,  and  even  every  real  comfort  and  accom- 
modation of  human  life,  might  be  supplied  in  as  great  abundance 
as  they  are  nov7.  Here,  therefore,  as  before,  we  may  fairly  ask, 
by  what  operation  it  is,  that  foreign  commerce,  which  brings  in- 
to the  country  no  one  article  of  human  subsistence,  promotes  the 
multiplication  of  human  life  ? 

The  answer  to  this  inquiry  will  be  contained  in  the  discussion 
of  another,  viz. 

Since  the  soil  will  maintain  more  than  it  can  employ,  what 
must  be  done,  supposing  the  country  to  be  full,  with  the  remain- 
der of  the  inhabitants  ?  They  who,  by  the  rules  of  partition, 
{and  some  such  must  be  established  in  every  country,)  are  en- 
titled to  the  land  ;  and  they  who,  by  their  labour  upon  the  soil, 
acquire  a  right  in  its  produce,  will  no4  pai:t  with  their  property 
for  nothing  ;  or  rather,  they  will  no  longer  raise  from  the  soil 


AND  COMMERCE.  429 

^vliat  they  can  neither  use  themselves,  nor  exchange  for  what 
they  want.  Or,  lastly,  if  these  were  willing  to  distribute  what 
they  could  spare  of  the  provision  which  the  ground  yielded,  to 
others  who  had  no  share  or  concern  in  the  property  or  cultiva- 
tion of  it,  yet  still  the  most  enormous  mischiefs  would  ensue  from 
great  numbers  remaining  unemployed.  The  idleness  of  one  half 
of  the  community  would  overwhelm  the  whole  with  confusion 
and  disorder.  One  only  way  presents  itself  of  removing  the  dif- 
ficulty which  this  question  states,  and  which  is  simply  this  ;  that 
they,  whose  work  is  not  wanted,  nor  can  be  employed  in  the 
raising  of  provision  out  of  the  ground,  convert  their  hands  and 
ingenuity  to  the  fabrication  of  articles  which  may  gratify  and  re- 
quite those  who  are  so  employed,  or  who,  by  the  division  of 
lands  in  the  country,  are  entitled  to  the  exclusive  possession  of 
certain  parts  of  them.  By  this  contrivance,  all  things  proceed 
well.  The  occupier  of  the  ground  raises  from  it  the  utmost  that 
he  can  procure,  because  be  is  repaid  for  what  he  can  spare  by 
something  else  which  he  wants,  or  with  which  he  is  pleased  : 
the  artist  and  manufacturer,  though  he  have  neither  any  proper- 
ty in  the  soil,  nor  any  concern  in  its  cultivation,  is  regularly 
supplied  with  the  produce,  because  he  gives,  in  exchange  for 
what  be  stands  in  need  of,  something  upon  which  the  receiver 
places  an  equal  value  ;  and  the  community  is  kept  quiet,  while 
both  sides  are  engaged  in  their  respective  occupations. 

It  appears,  then,  that  the  business  of  one  half  of  mankind  is,  to 
set  the  other  half  at  work  ;  that  is,  to  provide  articles  which,  by 
tempting  the  desires,. may  stimulate  the  industry,  and  call  forth 
the  activity  of  those  upon  the  exertion  of  whose  industry,  and 
the  application  of  whose  faculties,  the  production  of  hgman  pro- 
vision depends.  A  certain  portion  only  of  human  labour  is,  or 
can  be  productive ;  the  rest  is  instrumental; — both  equally  ne- 
cessary, theugh  the  one  have  no  other  object  than  to  excite  the 
other.  It  appears  also,  that  it  signifies  nothing,  as  to  the  main 
purpose  of  trade,  how  superfluous  the  articles  which  it  furnishes 
ore  ;  whether  the  want  of  them  be  real  or  imaginary,  founded 


4.SU  OF  AGRlCULTUKi:, 

in  nature  or  in  opinion,  in  fashion,  habit,  or  emulation;  it  is 
enough  that  they  be  actually  desired  and  sought  after.  Flour- 
ishing cities  are  raised  and  supported  by  trading  in  tobacco; 
populous  towns  subsist  by  the  manufactory  of  ribbands.  A  watch 
may  be  a  very  unnecessary  appendage  to  the  dress  of  a  peasant ; 
yet  if  the  peasant  will  till  the  ground  in  order  to  obtain  a  watch, 
the  true  design  of  trade  is  answered  ;  and  the  watchmaker,  while 
he  polishes  the  case,  or  files  the  wheels  of  his  machine,  is  con- 
tributing to  the  production  of  corn  as  effectually,  though  not  so 
directly,  as  if  he  handled  the  spade  or  held  the  plough.  The 
use  of  tobacco  has  been  mentioned  already,  as  an  acknowledged 
superfluity,  and  as  affording  a  remarkable  example  of  the  caprice 
of  human  appetite  :  yet,  if  the  fisherman  will  ply  his  nets,  or 
the  mariner  fetch  rice  from  foreign  countries,  in  order  to  pro- 
cure to  himself  this  indulgence,  the  market  is  supplied  with  two 
important  articles  of  provision,  by  the  instrumentality  of  a  mer- 
chandise, which  has  no  other  apparent  use  than  the  gratification 
of  a  vitiated  palate. 

But  it  may  come  to  pass,  that  the  husbandman,  landowner,  or 
whoever  he  be  that  is  entitled  to  the  produce  of  the  soil,  will  no 
longer  exchange  it  for  what  the  manufacturer  has  to  offer.  He 
is  already  supplied  to  the  extent  of  his  desires.  For  instance, 
he  wants  no  more  cloth  ;  he  will  no  longer,  therefore,  give  the 
weaver  corn,  in  return  for  the  produce  of  his  looms  ;  but  he 
would  readily  give  it  for  tea,  or  for  wine.  When  the  weaver 
finds  this  to  be  the  case,  he  has  nothing  to  do  but  to  send  hi? 
cloth  abroad,  in  exchange  for  tea  or  for  wine,  which  be  may 
barter  for  that  provision  which  the  offer  of  his  cloth  will  no  longer 
procure.  The  circulation  is  ^hus  revived  ;  and  the  benefit  of 
the  discovery  is,  that,  whereas  the  number  of  weavers,  who 
could  find  subsistence  from  their  employment,  was  before  limit- 
ed by  the  consumption  of  cloth  in  the  country,  that  number  is 
now  augmented  in  proportion  to  the  demand  for  tea  and  for  wine. 
This  is  the  principle  of  foreign  commerce.  In  the  magnitude 
and  complexity  of  the  machine,  the  principle  of  motion  is  some- 


AND  COMMERCE.  431 

times  lost  or  unobserved  ;  but  it  is  always  simple  and  the  same, 
to  whatever  extent  it  may  be  diversified  and  enlarged  in  its  op- 
eration. 

The  effect  of  trade  upon  agriculture,  the  process  of  which  we 
have  been  endeavouriug  (o  describe,  is  visible  in  the  neigbour- 
hood  of  trading  towns,  and  in  those  districts  which  carry  on  a 
communication  with  the  markets  of  trading  towns.  The  hus- 
bandmen are  busy  and  skilful,  tlje  peasantry  laborious,  the  lands 
are  managed  to  the  best  advantage,  and  double  the  quantity  of 
corn  or  herbage  (articles  which  are  ultimately  converted  into 
human  provision)  raised  from  it,  of  what  the  same  soil  yields  in 
remoter  and  more  neglected  parts  of  the  country.  Wherever  a 
thriving  manufactory  finds  means  to  establish  itself,  a  new  vege- 
tation springs  up  around  it.  I  believe  it  is  true,  that  agriculture 
never  arrives  at  any  considerable,  much  less  at  its  highest  de- 
gree of  perfection,  where  it  is  not  connected  with  trade  ;  that  is, 
where  the  demand  for  the  produce  is  not  increased  by  the  con- 
•■umption  of  trading  cities. 

Let  it  be  remembered,  then,  that  agriculture  is  the  immediate 
source  of  human  provision  ;  that  trade  conduces  to  the  produc- 
tion of  provision  only  as  it  promotes  agriculture  ;  that  the  whole 
system  of  commerce,  vast  and  various  as  it  is,  bath  no  other 
public  importance  than  its  subserviency  to  this  end. 

We  return  to  the  proposition  we  laid  down,  that  "  employ- 
"  ment  universally  promotes  population."  From  this  proposi- 
tion it  follows,  that  the  comparative  utility  of  different  branches 
of  national  commerce  is  measured  by  the  number  which  each 
branch  employs.  Upon  which  principle  a  scale  may  easily  be 
constructed,  which  shall  assign  to  the  several  kinds  and  divisions 
of  foreign  trade  their  respective  degrees  of  public  importance. 
In  this  scale,  the Jirst  place  belongs  to  the  exchange  of  wrought 
goods  for  raw  materials,  as,  of  broad  cloths  for  raw  silk  ;  cutle- 
ry for  wool  ;  clocks  or  watches  for  iron,  flax,  or  furs  ;  because 
this  traffic  provides  a  market  for  the  labour  that  has  already 
been  expended;  at  the  same  time  that  it  supplies  materials  for 
56 


j-j^  OF  AGRICULTURE, 

new  indubUy.  Topulalion  always  flourishes  where  thii  species 
uf  commcrte  ublaiiis  lo  any  considerable  degree.  It  is  the  cause 
oF  eniploymen't,  or  the  certain  indication.  As  it  takes  off  the 
manufactures  of  the  couiitry,  it  promotes  employment ;  as  it 
brings  in  raw  materials,  it  supposes  the  existence  of  manufacto- 
ries in  the  country,  and  a  demand  for  the  article  when  manufac- 
tured.— The  second  place  is  due  to  that  commerce,  which  bar- 
ters one  species  of  wrought  goods  for- another,  as  stuffs  for  cali- 
coes, fustians  for  cambrics,  leather  for  paper,  or  wrought  goods 
for  articles  which  require  no  further  preparation,  as  fo»  wine, 
oil,  tea,  sugar,  &:c.  This  also  dssists  employment;  because 
when  the  country  is  stocked  with  one  kind  of  manufacture,  it 
renews  the  demand  by  converting  it  into  another  :  but  it  is  infe- 
rior to  the  former,  as  it  promotes  this  end  by  one  side  only  of 
the  bargain, — by  what  it  carries  out. — The  last,  the  lowest,  and 
the  most  disadvantageous  species  of  commerce,  is  the  exporta- 
tion of  raw  materials  in  return  for  wrought  goods  :  as  when  wool 
sent  abroad  to  purchase  velvets  ;  hides  or  peltry,  to  procure 
shoes,  hats,  or  linen  cloth.  This  trade  is  unfavourable  to  popu- 
lation, because  it  leaves  no  room  or  demand  for  employment,, 
either  in  what  it  takes  out  of  the  country,  or  in  what  it  brings 
into  it.  Its  operation  on  both  sides  is  noxious.  By  its  exports, ' 
it  diminishes  the  very  subject  upon  which  the  industry  of  the 
inhabitants  ought  to  be  exercised  ;  by  its  imports,  it  lessens  the 
encouragement  of  that  industry,  in  the  same  proportion  that  it 
supplies  the  consumption  of  the  country  with  the  produce  of 
foreign  labour.  Of  different  branches  of  manufactiire,  those  are, 
in  tlieir  nature,  the  most  beneficial,  in  which  the  price  of  the 
wrought  article  exceeds  in  the  highest  proportion  that  of  the  raw 
material  :  for  this  excess  measures  the  quantity  of  employment, 
or,  in  other  words,  the  number  of  manufactures  which  each  branch 
sustains.  The  produce  of  the  ground  is  never  the  most  advan- 
tageous a-rticle  of  foreign  commerce.  Under  a  perfect  state  of 
])ubjic  economy,  the  soil  of  the  country  should  be  applied  sole- 
ly to  the  raising  of  provision  for  the  inhabitants,  and  its  trade  be 


AND  COMMERCE.  433 

^applied  "by  Iheir  industry.  A  nation  will  never  reach  its  proper 
^o^tent  of  population,  so  long  as  its  principal  commerce  consists 
in  the  exportation  of  corn  or  cattle,  or  even  of  wine,  oil,  tobac- 
co, madder,  indigo,  timber ;  because  these  last  articles  take  up 
that  surface  which  ought  to  be  covered  with  the  materials  of 
human  subsistence. 

It  must  be  here  however  noticed,  that  we  have  all  along  con- 
sidered the  inhabitants  of  a  country  as  maintained  by  the  pro- 
duce of  the  country  ;  and  that  what  we  have  said  is  applicable 
with  strictness  to  this  supposition  alone.  The  reasoning,  nev- 
ertheless, may  easily  be  adapted  to  a  different  case  ;  for  when 
provision  is  not  produced,  but  imported,  \\'ha.t  has  been  affirmed 
concerning  provision,  will  be,  in  a  great  measure,  true  of  that 
article,  whether  it  be  money,  produce,  or  labour,  which  is  ex- 
changed  for  provision.  Thus,  when  the  Dutch  raise  madder, 
and  exchange  it  for  corn  ;  or  when  the  people  of  America  plant 
tobacco,  and  send  it  to  Europe  for  cloth  ;  the  cultivation  of 
madder  and  tobacco  becomes  as  necessary  to  the  subsistence  of 
the  inhabitants,  and  by  consequence  will  affect  the  state  of  pop- 
ulation in  these  countries  as  sensibly  as  the  actual  production  of 
food,  or  the  manufactory  of  raiment.  In  like  manner,  when  the 
same  inhabitants  of  Holland  earn  money  by  the  carriage  of  the 
produce  of  one  country  to  another,  and  with  that  money  pur- 
chase the  provision  from  abroad  which  their  own  land  is  not  ex- 
tensive enough  to  supply,  the  increase  or  decline  of  this  trade 
will  influence  the  numbers  of  the  people  no  less  than  similar 
changes  would  do  in  the  cultivation  of  the  soil. 

The  few  principles  already  established  will  enable  us  to  de- 
scribe the  effects  upon  population  which  may  be  expected  from 
the  following  important  articles  of  national  conduct  and  economy. 

I.  Emigration. — Emigration  may  be  either  the  overflowiftg  of 
a  country,  or  the  desertion.  As  the  increase  of  the  species  is 
indefinite  ;  and  the  number  of  inhabitants,  which  any  given  tract 
or  surface  can  support,  finite  ;  it  is  evident  that  great  numbers 
may  be  constantly  leaving  a  country,  and  yet  the  country  remain 
constantly  full.     Or  whatever  be  the  cause  which  invincibly 


4r>4  Of  AGRICULTURE, 

limits  the  population  of  a  country,  when  the  number  of  the"  peo- 
ple has  arrived  ;it  that  limit,  the  progregs  of  generation,  beside 
continuing  the  succession,  will  supply  multitudes  for  foreign  em- 
igration.    In  these   two  cases,  emigration  neither  indicates  any 
political  decay,  nor  in  truth  diminishes  the  number  of  people  : 
nor  ought  to  be  prohibiled  or  discouraged.     But  emigrants  may 
relinquish  their  country  from  a  sense  of  insecurity,  oppression, 
annoyance,  and  inconveniency.     Neither,  again,  here  is  it  emi- 
gration wliich  wastes  the   people,   but  the  evils  that  occasion  it. 
Jt  would  be  in  vain,  if  it  were  practicable,  to  confine  the  inhab- 
itants at  home  ;  for  the  same  causes  which  drive  them  out  of  the 
country,  would  prevent  their  multiplication  if  they  remained  in 
it.     Lastly,  men  may  be  tempted  to  charige  their  situation  by 
the  allurement  of  a  better  climate,  of  a  more  refined  or  luxuri- 
ous manner  of  livina;  ;  by  the  prospect  of  wealth  ;  or  sometimes  by 
the  mere  nominal  advantage  of  higher  wages  and  prices.     This 
class  of  emigrants,  with  whom  alone  the  laws  can  interfere  with 
effect,  will  never,  I  think,  be  numerous.     With  the  generality 
of  a  people,  the  attachment  of  mankind  to  their  homes  and  coun- 
try, the  irksomeness  of  seeking  new  habitations,  and  <>f  living 
amongst  strangers,  will  outweigh,  so  long  as  men  possess  the  ne- 
cessaries of  life  in  safety,  or  at  least  so  long  as  they  can  obtain 
a  provision  tor  that  mode  of  subsistence  which  the  class  of  citi- 
zens to  which  they  belong  are  accustomed  to  enjoy,  all  the  in- 
ducements that  the  advantages  of  a  foreign  land  can  offer.     There 
appear,  therefore,  to  be  fk^w  cases  in  which  emigraiion  can  be 
prohibited  with  advantage  to  the  state  ;  it  appears  also,  that  em- 
igration is  an  equivocal  symptom,  which  will  probably  accom- 
pany the  decline  of  the  political  body,  but  which  may  likewise 
attend  a  condition  of  perfect  health  and  vigour. 

II.  CoLONIZATIO^. — The  only  view  under  which  our  subject 
will  permit  us  to  consider  colonization,  is  in  its  tendency  to  aug- 
ment the  population  of  the  parent  state.  Suppose  a  fertile,  but 
empty  island,  to  lie  within  the  reach  of  a  country  in  which  arts 
and  DJanufactures  are  already  established  ;  suppose  a  colony  sent 


AND  COMMERCE.  435 

out  from  such  a  coutitiy,  to  take  possession  of  the  island,  and  to 
live  there  under  the  protection  and  authority  of  their  native  go- 
vernment ;  the  new  settlers  will  naturally  convert  their  labour 
to  the  cuhivation  of  the  vacant  soil,  and  with  the  produce  of  that 
soil  will  draw  a  supply  of  manufactures  from  their  countrymen 
at  home.  Whilst  the  inhabitants  continue  few,  the  lands  cheap 
and  fresh,  the  colonists  will  find  it  easier  and  more  profita'We  to 
raise  corn,  or  rear  cattle,  and  with  corn  and  cattle  to  jiurchase 
woolen  cloth,  for  instance,  or  linen,  than  to  spin  or  weave  these 
articles  for  themselves.  The  mother  country,  meanwhile,  de- 
rives from  this  connexion  an  increase  both  of  provision  and  em- 
ployment. It  promotes  at  once  the  two  great  requisites  upon 
i,vhich  the  facility  of  subsistence,  and  by  consequence  the  state 
of  population  depends, — production  and  distribntion ;  and  this 
iu  a  manner  the  most  direct  and  beneficial.  No  situation  can  be 
imagined  more  favourable  to  population,  than  that  of  a  country 
which  works  up  goods  for  others,  whilst  these  others  are  cultiva- 
ting new  tracts  of  land  for  them  :  for  as,  in  a  genial  climate,  and 
from  a  fresh  soil,  the  labour  of  one  man  will  raise  provision 
enough  for  ten,  it  is  manifest,  that  where  all  are  employed  in 
agriculture,  much  the  greater  part  of  the  produce  will  be  spared 
from  the  consumption  ;  and  that  three  out  of  four,  at  least,  of 
those  who  are  maintained  by  it,  will  reside  in  the  country  which 
receives  the  redundancy.  When  the  new  country  does  not  re- 
mit frnvision  to  the  old  one,  the  advantage  is  less  ;  but  still  the 
exportation  of  wrought  goods,  by  whatever  return  they  are  paid 
for,  advances  population  in  that  secondary  way,  in  Avhicl* 
those  trades  promote  it  that  are  not  employed  in  the  production 
of  provision.  Whatever  prejudice,  therefore,  some  late  events  ; -vj 
have  excited  against  schemes  of  colonization,  the  system  itself  is  [ 
founded  in  apparent  national  utilitj'  ;  and  what  is  more,  upon 
principles  fa\'ourabIe  to  the  common  interest  of  human  nature  ; 
for,  it  does  not  appear  by  what  other  method  newly  discovered 
and  unfrequented  countries  can  be  peopled,  or  during  the  infan- 
cy of  their  establishment  be  yirotecfed  or  sup-pli^rl.     The  en'or 


436  OF  AGRICULTURE, 

wliicli  wc  of  this  iintion  at  present  lament,  seeins  to  have  cousisl- 
nd  not  so  miicli  in  the  original  formation  of  colonies,  a?  in  the  sub- 
sequent management  ;  in  imposing  restrictions  too  rigorous,  or 
in  continuing  them  too  long  ;  in  not  perceiving  the  point  of  time 
wl)cn  the  irresistable  order  and  progress  of  human  affairs  deman- 
ded a  cliange  of  laws  and  policy. 

III.  MoxKY. — Where  money  abounds,  the  people  are  general- 
ly numerous  :  yet  gold  and  silver  neither  feed  nor  clothe  man- 
kind ;  nor  are  they  in  all  countries  converted  into  provision,  by 
purchasing  the  necessaries  of  life  at  foreign  markets  ;  nor  do 
they,  in  any  country',  compose  those  articles  of  personal  or  do- 
mestic ornament,  which  certain  orders  of  the  community  have 
learnt  to  regard  as  noi;essaries  of  life,  and  without  the  means  of 
procuring  which  thoy  will  not  enter  into  family  establishments  ; 
— at  least,  this  property  of  the  precious  metals  obtains  in  a  ve- 
ry small  degree.  The  effect  of  money  upon  the  number  of  the 
people,  though  visible  to  observation,  is  not  explained  without 
some  dilBculty.  To  understand  this  connexion  properly,  we 
must  return  to  the  proposifion  with  which  Ave  concluded  our  rea- 
soning upon  the  subject,  "  that  poiniialion  is  chiefly  promoted  by 
"employment."  Now  of  employment,  moiie}'  is  partly  the  in- 
dication, and  partly  the  cau«e.  The  only  way  in  which  money 
regularly  and  spontaneously  Jlorvs  into  a  country,  is  in  return 
for  the  goods  that  are  sent  out  of  it,  or  the  work  that  is  perform- 
ed by  it  ;  and  the  only  way  in  which  money  is  retained  in  a 
country  is,  by  the  country  supplying,  in  a  great  measure,  its  own 
consumption  of  manufactures.^  Consequently,  (he  quantity  of 
money  found  in  a  country,  denotes  the  amount  of  labour  and  em- 
ployment ;  but  still  employment,  not  money,  is  the  cause  of  pop- 
ulation ;  the  accumul.ation  of  money  being  merely  a  collateral 
pffcf  t  of  the  same  cause,  or  a  circumstance  which  accompanies 
the  existence,  and  measures  the  operation  of  that  cause.  And 
this  is  true  of  money  only  whilst  it  is  acquired  by  the'  industry  of 
the  inhabitants.  The  treasures  which  belong  to  a  country  by 
the  possession  of  mines,  or  by  the  exaction  of  tribute  from  for- 


AND  COMMERCE.  437 

eign  dependencies,  afford  no  conclusion  concerning  the  state  of 
jiopulation.  The  inllux  from  these  sources  may  be  immense, 
and  yet  the  country  remain  poor  and  ill  peopled  ;  of  which  we 
see  an  egregious  example  in  the  condition  of  Spain,  since  the 
acquisition  of  its  South  American  dominions. 

But,  secondly,  money  may  become  also  a  real  and  operative 
muse  of  population,  by  acting  as  a  stimulus  to  industry,  and  by 
facilitating  the  means  of  subsistence.  The  ease  of  subsistence, 
and  the  encouragement  of  industry  depend  neither  upon  the  price 
of  labour,  nor  upon  the  price  of  provision,  but  upon  the  propor- 
tion which  the  one  bears  to  the  other.  Now  tlie  influx  of  money 
into  a  country  naturally  tends  to  advance  this  proportion  ;  that 
is,  every  fresh  accession  of  money  raises  the  price  of  labour  be- 
fore it  raises  the  price  of  provision.  When  money  is  brought 
from  abroad,  the  persons,  be  they  who  they  will,  into  whose 
hands  it  first  arrives,  do  not  buy  up  provision  with  it,  but  apply 
it  to  the  purchase  and  payment  of  labour.  If  the  state  receives 
it,  the  state  dispenses  what  it  receives,  amongst  soldiers,  sailors, 
artilicers,  engineers,  shipwrights,  workmen  ; — if  private  persons 
bring  home  treasures  of  gold  at)d  silver,  they  usually  expend 
them  in  the  building  of  houses,  the  improvement  of  estates,  the 
purchase  of  furniture,  dress,  equipage,  in  articles  of  luxury  or 
splendour  ; — if  the  merchant  be  enriched  by  returns  of  his  for- 
eign commerce,  he  applies  his  increased  capital  to  the  enlarge- 
ment of  his  business  at  home.  The  money  ere  long  comes  to 
market  for  provision  :  But  it  comes  thither  through  the  hands  ot 
the  manufacturer,  the  artist,  the  husbandman,  and  labourer.  It? 
eifect,  therefore,  upon  the  price  of  art  and  labour,  will  precede 
its  effects  upoo  the  price  of  provision  :  and,  during  the  interval 
between  one  efiect  and  the  other,  the  means  of  subsistence  will 
be  multiplied  and  facilitated,  as  well  as  industry  be  excited  by 
new  rewards.  When  the  great  plenty  of  money  in  circulatioa 
has  produced  an  advance  in  the  price  of  provision,  correspond- 
ing to  the  advanced  price  of  labour,  its  efi'cct  ceases.  The  la- 
bourer no  longer  gains  any  thing  by  the   increase  of  his  wages. 


jju  OF  .\(;ricui/iurj-:, 

it  is  not,  llicrel'oic,  the  quantity  ors|,-ccie  collected  into  a  couii- 
Iry,  but  the  cuntinual  increase  of  that  quantity,  from  which  the 
advantage  arises  to  em|)loyment  and  population.  It  is  only  the 
accession  of  money  wliich  [iroduces  the  effect,  and  it  is  only  by 
money  constantly  flowing  into  a  country  that  the  effect  can  be 
constant.  Now,  whatever  consequence  arises  to  the  country 
from  the  influx  of  money,  the  contrary  may  be  expected  to  fol- 
low from  the  diminution  of  its  quantity  ;  and  accordingly  we 
find,  that  whatever  cause  drains  off  the  specie  of  a-country,  faster 
than  the  streams  which  feed  it  can  supply,  not  only  impoverish- 
es the  country,  but  depopulates  it.  The  knowledge  and  expe- 
rience of  this  effect  has  given  occasion  to  a  phrase  which  occurs 
in  almost  every  discourse  upon  commerce  or  politics.  The  bal- 
ance of  trade  with  any  foreign  nation  is  said  to  be  against  or  in 
favour  of  a  country,  simply  as  it  tends  to  carry  money  out,  or  to 
bring  it  in  :  that  is,  according  as  the  price  of  the  imports  exceed? 
or  falls  short  of  the  price  of  the  exports.  So  invariably  is  the 
increase  or  diminution  of  the  specie  of  a  country  regarded  as  a 
test  of  the  public  advantage  or  detriment,  which  arises  from  any 
branch  of  its  commerce. 

IV.  Taxatiox. — As  taxes  take  nothing  out  of  a  country  ;  as 
they  do  not  diminish  the  public  Block,  only  vary  the  distribution 
of  it,  they  are  not  necessarily  prejudicial  to  population.  If  the 
state  exact  money  from  certain  members  of  the  community,  she 
dispenses  it  also  amongst  other  members  of  the  same  communi- 
ty. They  who  contribute  to  the  revenue,  and  they  who  are  sup- 
ported or  benefited  by  the  expenses  of  government,  are  to  be 
placed  one  against  the  other  ;  and  whilst  what  the  subsistence  of 
one  pari  is  profited  by  receiving,  compensates  for  what  that  of 
the  other  suflers  by  paying,  the  common  fund  of  the  society  is 
not  lessened.  This  is  true  ;  but  it  must  be  observed,  that  al- 
though the  sum  distributed  by  the  state  be  always  eqtcal  to  the 
sum  collected  from  the  people,  yet  the  gain  and  loss  to  the  means 
of  subsistence  may  be  very  nnequal ;  and  the  balance  will  re- 
main on  the  wrong  oi  the  right  side  of  the  account,  according  as 


AND  Commerce.  439 

the  money  passes  by  taxation  from  the  industrious  to  the  idle, 
from  the  many  to  the  few,  from  those  who  want  to  those  who 
abound,  or  in  a  contrary  direction.  For  instance,  a  tax  upoa 
coaches,  to  be  laid  out  in  the  repair  of  roads,  would  probably 
improve  the  population  of  a  neighborhood  ;  a  tax  upon  cottages, 
to  be  ultimately  expended  in  the  purchase  and  support  of  coach- 
es, would  certainly  diminish  it.  In  like  manner,  a  tax  upon 
wine  or  tea,  distributed  in  bounties  to  fisherman  or  husbandmen, 
would  augment  the  provision  of  a  country  ;  a  tax  upon  fisheries 
and  husbandry,  however  indirect  or  concealed,  to  be  converted, 
when  raised,  to  the  procuring  of  wine  or  tea  for  the  idle  and  op- 
ulent, would  naturally  impair  the  public  stock.  The  effect, 
therefore,  of  taxes  upon  the  means  of  subsistence  depends  not 
so  much  upon  the  amount  of  the  sum  levied,  as  upon  the  object 
of  the  tax  and  the  application.  Taxes  likewise  may  be  so  ad- 
justed as  to  conduce  to  the  restraint  of  luxury,  and  the  correc- 
tion of  vice  ;  to  the  encouragement  of  industry,  trade,  agricul- 
ture, and  marriage.  Taxes  thus  contrived,  become  rewards  and 
penalties  ;  not  only  sources  of  revenue,  but  instruments  of  po- 
lice. Vices,  indeed,  themselves  cannot  be  taxed,  without  hold- 
ing forth  such  a  conditional  toleration  of  them  as  to  destroy 
men's  perception  of  their  guilt ;  a  tax  comes  to  be  considered 
as  a  commutation  ;  the  materials,  however,  and  incentives  of 
vice  may.  Although,  for  instance,  drunkenness  would  be,  on 
this  account,  an  unfit  object  of  taxation,  yet  public  houses 
and  spirituous  liquors  are  very  properly  subjected  to  heavy  im- 
posts. 

Nevertheless,  although  it  may  be  true  that  taxes  cannot  be 
pronounced  to  be  detrimental  to  population,  by  any  absolute  ne- 
cessity in  their  nature  ;  and  though  under  some  modifications, 
and  when  urged  only  to  a  certain  extent,  they  may  even  operate 
in  favour  of  it ;  yet  it  will  be  found,  in  a  great  plurality  of  in- 
stances, that  their  tendency  is  noxious.  Let  it  be  supposed  that 
nine  families  inhabit  a  neighbourhood,  each  possessing  barely  the 
means  of  subsistence,  or  of  that  mode  of  subsistence  which  cus- 
57 


.J40  or  ACRICULTL'RE, 

torn  liath  cstabliilietl  amongst  them  :  let  a  tenth  fainilj  Ijc  'juar- 
(ered  upon  these,  to  be  supported  by  a  tax  raised  from  the  tune  ; 
or  rather,  let  one  of  the  nine  have  liis  income  augmented  hy  a 
similar  deduction  from  the  incomes  of  the  rest ;  in  either  of 
these  cases  it  is  evident  that  the  whole  district  would  be  broken 
up  :  for,  as  the  entire  income  of  each  is  supposed  to  be  barely 
sufficient  for  the  establishment  which  it  maintaias,  a  deduction 
of  any  part  destroys  that  establishment.  Now,  it  is  no  answer 
to  this  objection,  it  is  no  apology  for  the.grievance,  to  say,  that 
nothing  is  taken  out  of  the  neighborhood  ;  that  the  stock  is  nbt 
diminished :  the  mischief  is  done  by  deranging  the  distribution. 
Nor,  again,  is  the  luxury  of  one  family,  or  even  the  maintenance 
of  an  additional  family,  a  recompense  to  the  country  for  the  ru- 
in of  nine  others.  Nor,  lastly,  will  it  alter  the  effect,  though  it 
may  conceal  the  cause,  that  the  contribution,  instead  of  being 
levied  directly  upon  each  day's  wages,  is  mixed  up  in  the  price 
of  some  article  of  constant  use  and  consumption,  as  in  a  tax  up- 
on candlee,  malt,  leather,  or  fuel.  This  example,  illustrates 
the  tendency  of  taxes  to  obstruct  subsistence  ;  and  the  minutest 
degree  of  this  obstruction  will  be  felt  in  the  formation  of  fami- 
lies. The  example,  indeed,  forms  an  extreme  case  ;  the  evil  is 
magnified,  in  order  to  render  its  operation  distinct  and  visible. 
In  real  life,  families  may  not  be  broken  up,  or  forced  from  their 
hnbitotion,  houses  be  quitted,  or  countries  suddenly  deserted,  in 
coiisccpience  of  any  new  imposition  whatever ;  but  marriages 
will  become  gradually  less  frequent. 

It  seems  necessary,  however,  to  distinguish  between  the  ope- 
ration of  a  new  tax,  and  the  effect  of  taxes  which  have  been  long 
establishe<l.  In  the  course  of  circulation,  the  money  may  flow 
back  to  the  hands  from  which  it  was  taken.  The  proportion 
between  the  supply  and  the  expense  of  subsistence,  which  had 
been  disturbed  by  the  tax,  may  at  length  recover  itself  again.  In 
the  instance  just  now  staled,  the  addition  of  a  tenth  family  to  the 
neighbourhood,  or  the  enlarged  expenses  of  one  of  the  nine,  m.iy 
in  some  shape  or  other,  so  advance  the  profits,  or  increase  the 


AND  COMMERCE.  441 

*ifiploynient  of  the  rest,  as  to  make  full  restitution  for  the  share 
of  their  property  of  which  it  deprives  them  ;  or,  what  is  more 
likely  to  happen,  a  reduction  liiay  take  place  in  their  mode  of 
living,  suited  to  the  abridgement  of  their  incomes.  Yet  still  the 
ultimate  and  permanent  effect  of  taxation,  though  distinguisha- 
ble from  the  impression  of  a  new  tax,  is  generally  adverse  to 
population.  The  proportion  above  spoken  of,  can  only  be  re- 
stored by  one  side  or  other  of  the  following  alternative  :  By  the 
people  either  contracting  their  wants,  which  at  the  same  time 
diminishes  consumption  and  employment ;  or  by  raising  the 
price  of  labour,  which  necessarily  adding  to  the  price  of  the 
productions  and  manufactures  of  the  coiAitry,  checks  their  sale 
at  foreign  markets.  A  nation  which  is  burthened  with  taxes, 
must  always  be  undersold  by  a  nation  which  is  free  from  them, 
unless  the  difference  be  made  up  by  some  singular  advantage  of^ 
Climate,  soil,  skill,  or  industry.  This  quality  belongs  to  all 
taxes  which  affect  the  mass  of  the  community,  even  when  im- 
]!osed  upon  the  properest  objects,  and  applied  to  the  fairest  pur- 
poses. But  abuses  are  inseparable  from  the  disposal  of  public 
money.  As  government  is  usually  administered,  the  produce  of 
public  taxes  is  expended  upon  a  train  of  gentry,  in  the  main- 
taining of  pomp,  or  in  the  purchase  of  influence.  The  conver- 
sion of  property  which  taxes  effectuate,  when  they  are  employ- 
ed in  this  manner,  is  at'ended  with  obvious  evils.  It  takes  from 
the  industrious,  to  give  to  the  idle  ;  it  increases  the  number  of 
the  latter  ;  it  tends  to  accumulation  ;  it  sacrifices  the  convenien- 
cy  of  many  to  the  luxury  of  a  iew  ;  it  makes  no  return  to  the 
people,  from  whom  the  tax  is  drawn,  that  is  satisfactory  or  in- 
telligible ;  it  encourages  no  activity  which  is  useful  cr  productive. 
The  sum  to  be  raised  being  settled,  a  wise  statesman  will 
contrive  his  taxes  principally  with  a  view  to  their  effect  upon 
population ;  that  is,  he  will  so  adjust  them  as  to  give  the  least 
possible  obstruction  to  those  means  of  subsistence  by  which  the 
mass  of  the  community  are  maintained.  We  are  accustomed  to 
an  opinion,  that  a  tax,  to  be  just,  ought  to  be  accurately  propor- 


442  Of  AGRICULTURE, 

tioned  to  the  circumstances  of  the  persons  who  pay  it.  But  upon 
what,  it  mij^it  be  asked,  is  this  opinion  founded  ;  unless  it  could  be 
shown  that  such  a  proportion  interferes  the  least  with  the  gener- 
al conveniency  of  subsistence  ?  Whereas  I  should  rather  believe, 
that  a  tax,  constructed  with  a  view  to  that  conveniency,  ought  to 
raise  upon  the  different  classes  of  the  community,  in  a  much  high- 
er ratio  than  the  simple  proportion  of  their  incomes.  The  point 
to  be  regarded,  is  not  what  men  have,  but  what  they  can  spare ; 
and  it  is  evident  that  a  man  who  possesses  a  thousand  pounds  a 
year,  can  more  easily  give  a  hundred,  than  a  man  with  a  hundred 
pounds  a  year  can  part  with  ten  ;  that  is,  those  habits  of  life 
which  are  reasonable  ^d  innocent,  and  upon  the  ability  to  con- 
tinue which  the  formation  of  families  depends,  will  be  much  less 
affected  by  the  one  deduction  than  the  other  :  It  is  still  more  ev- 
ident, that  a  man  of  a  hundred  pounds  a  year  would  not  be  so 
much  distressed  in  his  subsistence  by  a  demand  from  him  of  ten 
pounds,  as  a  man  of  ten  pounds  a  year  would  be  by  the  loss  of 
one  :  to  which  we  must  add,  that  the  population  of  every  coun- 
try being  replenished  by  the  marriages  of  the  lowest  ranks  of 
society,  their  accommodation  and  relief  become  of  more  impor- 
tance to  the  state,  than  the  conveniency  of  any  higher,  but  less 
numerous  order  of  its  citizens.  But  whatever  be  the  proportion 
which  public  expediency  directs,  whether  the  simple,  the  dur 
plicate,  or  any  higher  or  intermediate  proportion  of  men's  inr 
comes,  it  can  never  be  attained  by  any  single  tax  ;  as  no  single 
object  of  taxation  can  be  found,  which  measures  the  ability  of 
the  subject  with  sufficient  generality  and  exactness.  It  is  only 
by  a  system  and  variety  of  taxes  mutually  balancing  and  equal- 
izing one  another,  that  a  due  proportion  can  be  preserved.  For 
instance,  if  a  tax  upon  lands  press  with  greater  hardship  upon 
those  who  live  in  the  country,  it  may  be  properly  counterpoised 
1))'  a  tax  upon  the  rent  of  houses,  which  will  affect  principally 
the  inhabitants  of  large  towns.  Distinctions  may  also  be  fram- 
ed in  some  taxes,  which  shall  allow  abatements  or  exemptions 
*o  married  persons  ;  to  the  parents  of  a  certain  number  of  legiti- 


AND  COMMERCE.  443 

mate  children  ;  to  improvers  of  the  soil  ;  to  particular  modes  of 
cultivation,  as  to  tillage  in  preference  to  pasturage  ;  and  in  gen- 
eral, to  that  industry  which  is  immediately  productive,  in  prefer- 
ence to  that  which  is  only  instrumental ;  but  above  all,  which 
may  leave  the  heaviest  part  of  the  burthen  upon  the  methods, 
whatever  they  be,  of  acquiring  without  industry,  or  even  of 
subsisting  in  idleness. 

V.  Exportation  of  bread-corn. — Nothing  seems  to  have 
a  more  positive  tendency  to  reduce  the  number  of  the  people, 
than  the  sending  abroad  part  of  the  provision  by  which  they  are 
maintained  ;  yet  this  has  been  the  policy  of  legislators  very  stu- 
dious of  the  improvement  of  their  country.  In  order  to  recon- 
cile ourselves  to  a  practice  which  appears  to  militate  with  the 
ehief  interest,  that  is,  with  the  population  of  the  country  that 
adopts  it,  we  must  be  reminded  of  a  maxim  which  belongs  to  the 
productions  both  of  nature  and  art,  "  that  it  is  impossible  to 
"have  enough  without  a  superfluity."  The  point  of  sufficiency 
cannot,  in  any  case,  be  so  exactly  hit  upon,  as  to  have  nothing 
to  spare,  yet  never  to  want.  This  is  peculiarly  true  of  bread- 
corn,  of  which  the  annual  increase  is  extremely  variable.  As  it 
is  necessary  that  the  crop  be  adequate  to  the  consumption  in  a 
year  of  scarcity,  it  must  of  consequence,  greatly  exceed  it  in  a 
year  of  plenty.  A  redundancy  therefore  will  occasionally  arise 
from  the  very  care  that  is  taken  to  secure  the  people  against  the 
danger  of  want ;  and  it  is  manifest,  that  the  exportation  of  this 
redundancy  subtracts  nothing  from  the  number  that  can  regular- 
ly be  maintained  by  the  produce  of  the  soil.  Moreover,  as  the 
exportation  of  corn,  under  these  circumstances,  is  attended  with 
no  direct  injury  to  population,  so  the  benefits  which  indirectly 
arise  to  population  from  foreign  commerce,  belong  to  this  in 
common  with  other  species  of  trade  ;  together  with  the  peculiar 
advantage  of  presenting  a  constant  incitement  to  the  skill  and 
industry  of  the  husbandman,  by  the  promise  of  a  certain  sale 
and  an  adequate  price,  under  every  contingency  of  season  and 
produce.     There  is  another  situation,  in  which  corn  may  not 


4  11  OF  AGRICULTURE, 

ctily  be  oxpoilei!,  but  in  which  the  people  can  thrive  by  iiuolli- 
rr  means  ;  thnt  is  of  a  nfewly  settled  country  with  a  fertile  soil. 
'I'he  exportation  of  a  large  proportion  uf  the  corn  which  a  coun- 
try produces,  prove*  it  is  true,  that  the  inliabilants  have  not  yet 
attained  to  the  number  which  the  country  is  capable  of  maintain- 
ing; :  hut  it  docs  not  prove  but  that  they  may  be  hastening  to 
this  limit  with  the  utmost  practicable  celerity,  whicli  is  the  per- 
fection to  be  sought  for  in  a  young  establishment.  In  all  cases 
except  these  two,  .ind  in  the  former  of  them  to  any  greater  de- 
gree than  what  is  necessary  to  take  off  occasional  redundancies, 
the  exportation  of  corn  is  cither  itself  noxious  to  population,  or 
argues  a  defect  of  po|)ulation  arising  from  some  other  cause. 

VI.  Abridgment  of  labovr.^ — It  has  long  been  made  a 
<pjestion,  whether  those  mechanical  contrivances  which  abridge 
labour,  by  performing  the  same  work  by  fewer  hands,  be  detri- 
mental or  not  to  the  population  of  a  country  ?  From  what  has 
been  delivered  in  preceding  parts  of  the  present  chapter,  it  will 
be  evident  that  this  question  is  equivalent  to  another,— -whether 
such  contrivances  diminish  or  not  the  quantity  of  employment  ? 
Their  first  and  most  obvious  effect  undoubtedly  is  this  ;  because, 
if  one  man  be  made  to  do  what  three  men  did  before,  two  are 
immediately  discharged;  but  if  by  some  more  general  and  re- 
moter consequence,  they  increase  the  demand  for  work,  or,  what 
is  the  same  thing,  prevent  the  diminution  of  that  demand,  in  a 
greater  proportion  than  they  contract  the  number  of  hands  by 
which  it  is  performed,  the  quantity  of  employment,  upon  the 
Mhole,  will  gain  an  addition.  Upon  which  principle  it  may  be 
observed,  firstly,  that  whenever  a  mechanical  invention  succeeds 
in  one  place,  it  is  necessary  that  it  be  imitated  in  every  other 
where  the  same  manufacture  is  carried  on  :  for  it  is  manifest  that 
he  who  has  the  benefit  of  a  conciser  operation,  will  soon  outvie 
and  undersell  a  competitor  who  continues  to  use  a  more  circui- 
tous labour.  It  is  also  true,  in  the  second  place,  that  whoever 
firat  di.scover  or  adopt  a  mechanical  improvement,  will,  for  some 
time,  draw  to  themselves  an  increase  of  employment ;  and  that 


AND  COMMERCE.  415 

this  preference  may  continue  even  after  the  improvement  has 
become  general  :  for,  in  every  kind  of  trade,  it  is  not  only  a 
great  but  permanent  advantage,  to  have  once  pre-occupied  the 
public   reputation.       Thirdly,    after   every   superiority   which 
might  be  derived  from  the  possession  of  a  secret  has  ceased,  it 
may  be  well  questioned  whether  even  then  any  loss  can  accrue 
to  employment.     The  same  money  will  be  spared  to  the  same 
article  still.     Wherefore,  in  proportion  as  the  article  can  be  af- 
forded at  a  lower  price,  by  reason  of  an  easier  or  shorter  process 
in  the  manufacture,  it  will  either  grow  into  more  general  use,  or 
an  improvement  will  take  place  in  the  quality  and  fabric,  which 
will  demand  a  proportionable  addition  of  hands.     The  number 
of  persons  employed  in  the  manufactory  of  stockings  has  not,  1 
apprehend,  decreased  since  the  invention  of  stocking-mills.    The 
amount  of  what  is  expended  upon  the  article,  after  subtracting 
from  it  the  price  of  the  raw  material,  and  consequently  what  is 
paid  for  work  in  this  branch  of  our  manutactories,  is  not  less  than 
it  was  before.     Goods  of  a  finer  texture  are  worn  in  the  place  of 
coarser.     This  is  the  change  which  the  invention  has  produced, 
and  which  compensates  to  the  manufactory  for  every  other  iiicon- 
veniency.     Add  to  which,  that  in  the  above,  and  in  almost  ev- 
ery  instance,  an  improvement  which   conduces  to  the  recom- 
mendation of  a  manufactory,  either  by  the  cheapness  or  the  qual- 
ity of  the  goods,  draws  up.  after  it  many  dependent  employments, 
in  which  no  abbreviation  has  taken  place. 

From  the  reasoning  that  has  been  pursued,  and  the  various 
considerations  suggested  in  this  chapter,  a  judgment  may,  in 
some  sort,  be  formed,  how  far  regulations  of  law  are  in  their  na- 
ture capable  of  contributing  to  the  support  and  advancement  of 
population.  I  say  hozv  far  ;  for,  as  in  many  subjects,  so  espe- 
cially in  those  which  relate  to  commerce,  to  plenty,  to  riches, 
and  to  the  number  of  the  people,  more  is  wont  to  be  expected 
from  laws,  than  laws  can  do.  Laws  can  only  imperfectly  restrain 
that  dissoluteness  of  manners,  which,  by  diminishing  the  frequen- 
e-.y  of  marriages,  impairs  the  very  source  of  population.     Laws 


\ 


416  OK  AGRICULTURE, 

cannot  regulate  the  wants  of  mankind,  their  mode  of  living,  or 
their  desire  of  those  superfluities  which  fashion,  more  irresistible 
than  laws,  has  once  introduced  into  general  usage  ;  or,  in  other 
words,  has  erected  into  necessaries  of  life.  Laws  cannot  induce 
men  to  enter  into  marriages,  when  the  expenses  of  a  family  must 
deprive  them  of  that  system  of  accommodation  to  which  they 
have  habituated  their  expectations.  Laws,  by  their  protection, 
by  assuring  to  the  labourer  the  fruit  and  profit  of  his  labour,  may 
help  to  make  a  people  industrious  ;  but,  without  industry,  the 
laws  cannot  provide  either  subsistence  or  employment  ;  laws 
cannot  make  corn  grow  v.ithout  toil  and  care,  or  trade  flourish 
without  art  and  dilligence.  In  spite  of  all  laws,  the  expert,  la- 
borious, honest  workmen  will  be  employed,  in  preference  to  the 
lazy,  the  unskilful,  the  fraudulent,  and  evasive  ;  and  this  is  not 
more  true  of  two  inhabitants  of  the  same  village,  than  it  is  of  the 
people  of  two  different  countries,  which  communicate  either  with 
each  other,  or  with  the  rest  of  the  world.  The  natural  basis  of 
trade  is  rivalship  of  quality  and  price  ;  or,  which  is  the  same 
thing,  of  skill  and  industry.  Every  attempt  to  force  trade  by 
operation  of  law,  that  is,  by  compelling  persons  to  buy  goods  at 
one  market,  which  they  can  obtain  cheaper  and  better  from  an- 
other, is  sure  to  be  either  eluded  by  the  quick-sightedness  and 
incessant  activity  of  private  interest,  or  to  be  frustrated  by  retal- 
iation. One  half  of  the  commercial  laws  of  many  states  are  cal- 
culated merely  to  counteract  the  restrictions  which  have  been 
imposed  by  other  states.  Perhaps  the  only  way  in  which  the 
interposition  of  law  is  salutary  in  trade,  is  in  the  prevention  of 
frauds. 

Next  to  the  indispensable  requisites  of  internal  peace  and  se- 
curity, the  chief  advantage  which  can  be  derived  to  population 
from  the  interference  of  law,  appears  to  me  to  consist  in  the  en- 
couragement o[  agriculture.  This,  at  least  is  the  direct  way  of 
increasing  the  number  of  the  people  ;  every  other  mode  being 
efTtctual  only  by  its  influence  upon  this.  Now  the  principal  ex- 
pedient by  which  such  a  purpose  can  be  promoted,  is,  to  adjust 


AND  COMMERCE.  447 

tlie  laws  of  properly,  as  nearly  as  possible,  to  the  two  following 
rules  :  first.  "  To  give  to  the  occupier  all  the  power  over  the 
"  soil  which  is  necessary  for  its  perfect  cultivation  ;" — secondly, 
"  To  assign  the  whole  profit  of  every  improvement  to  the  persons 
"  by  whose  activity  it  is  carried  on."  What  we  call  property  in 
land,  as  hath  been  observed  above,  is  power  over  it.  Now  it  is 
indifferent  to  the  public  in  whose  hands  this  power  resides,  if  it 
be  rightly  used  ;  it  matters  not  to  whom  the  land  belongs,  if  it 
be  well  cultivated.  When  we  lament  that  great  estates  are  often 
united  in  the  same  hand,  or  complain  that  one  man  possesses 
what  would  be  sufficient  for  a  thousand,  we  suffer  ourselves  to 
be  misled  by  words.  The  owner  of  ten  thousand  pounds  a  year, 
consumes  little  more  of  the  produce  of  the  soil  than  the  owner  of 
ten  pounds  a  year.  If  the  cultivation  be  equal,  the  estate,  in 
the  hands  of  one  great  lord,  affords  subsistence  and  employment 
to  the  same  number  of  persons  as  it  would  do  if  it  were  divided 
amongst  a  hundred  proprietors.  In  like  manner  we  ought  to 
judge  of  the  effect  upon  the  public  interest,  which  may  arise  from 
lands  being  holden  by  the  king,  or  by  the  subject  ;  by  private 
persons,  or  by  corporations  ;  by  laymen,  or  ecclesiastics  ;  in 
fee,  or  for  life  ;  by  virtue  of  office,  or  in  right  of  inheritance.  I 
do  not  mean  that  these  varieties  make  no  difference,  but  I  mean 
that  all  the  difference  they  do  make  respects  the  cultivation  of 
the  lands  which  are  so  holden. 

There  exists  in  this  country  conditions  of  tenure  which  con- 
demn the  land  itself  to  perpetual  sterility.  Of  this  kind  is  the 
right  of  common,  which  precludes  each  proprietor  from  the  im- 
provement, or  even  the  convenient  occupation  of  his  estate, 
without  (what  seldom  can  be  obtained)  the  consent  of  many  oth- 
ers. This  tenure  is  also  usually  embarrassed  by  the  interference 
of  manorial  claims,  under  which  it  often  happens  that  the  surface 
belongs  to  one  owner,  and  the  soil  to  another  ;  so  that  neither 
owner  can  stir  a  clod  without  the  concurrence  of  his  partner  in 
the  property.  In  many  manors,  the  tenant  is  restrained  from 
granting  leases  beyond  a  short  term  of  years ;  which  le.nders  eV' 


448  OF  AGRICULTURE,  AND  COMMERCE. 

cry  plan  of  solid  and  permanent  improvement  impracliGable.. 
In  these  cases,  the  owner  wants,  what  the  first  rule  of  rational  pol- 
icy requires,  "  sufficient  power  over  the  soil  for  its  perfect  cultiva- 
"  tion."  This  power  ought  to  be  extended  to  him  by  some  easy 
and  general  law  of  enfranchisement,  partition,  and  enclosure  ; 
which,  though  compulsory  upon  the  lord,  or  the  rest  of  the  ten- 
ants, whilst  it  has  in  view  the  melioration  of  the  soil,  and  tenders 
an  equitable  compensation  for  every  right  that  it  takes  away,  is 
neither  more  arbitrary,  nor  more  dangerous  to  the  stability  of 
property,  than  that  which  is  done  in  the  construction  of  roads, 
bridges,  embankments,  navigable  canals,  and  indeed  in  almost 
every  public  work,  in  which  private  owners  of  land  are  obliged 
to  accept  that  price  for  their  property  which  an  indifferent  jury 
may  award.  It  may  here,  however,  be  proper  to  observe,  that 
although  the  enclosure  of  wastes  and  pastures  be  generally  bene- 
ficial to  population,  yet  the  enclosure  of  lands  in  tillage,  in  order 
to  convert  them  into  pastures,  is  as  generally  hurtful. 

But,  secondly,  agriculture  is  discouraged  by  every  constitu- 
tion of  landed  property  which  lets  in  those,  who  have  no  concern 
in  the  improvement,  to  a  participation  of  the  profit.  This  ob- 
jection is  applicable  to  all  such  customs  of  manors  as  subject  the 
proprietor,  upon  the  death  of  the  lord  or  tenant,  or  the  alienation 
of  the  estate,  to  a  fine  apportioned  to  the  improved  value  of  the 
land.  But  of  all  institutions  which  are  in  this  way  adverse  to 
cultivation  and  improvement,  none  is  so  noxious  as  that  of  tithes. 
A  claimant  here  enters  into  the  produce,  who  contributed  no  as- 
sistance whatever  to  the  production.  When  years,  perhaps,  of 
care  and  toil  have  matured  an  improvement  ;  when  the  husband- 
man sees  new  crops  ripening  to  his  skill  and  industry  ;  the  mo- 
ment he  is  ready  to  put  his  sickle  to  the  grain,  he  finds  himself 
compelled  to  divide  his  harvest  with  a  stranger.  Tithes  are  a 
tax  not  only  upon  industry,  but  upon  that  industry  which  feeds 
mankind,  upon  that  species  of  exertion  which  it  is  the  aim  (*f  all 
wise  laws  to  cherish  and  promote;  and  to  uphold  and  excite  which, 
composes,  as  we  have  !=een,  the  main  benefit  tliat  the  community 


MILITARY  ESTABLISHMENTS.  44& 

Teceives  from  the  whole  system  of  trade,  and  the  success  of  com- 
merce. And,  together  with  the  more  general  inconveniency  that 
attends  the  exaction  of  tithes,  there  is  this  additional  evil,  in  the 
mode  at  least  according  to  which  they  are  collected  at  present, 
that  they  operate  as  a  bounty  upon  pasturage.  The  burthen  of 
the  tax  fallsAvith  its  chief,  if  not  with  its  whole  weight  upon  til- 
lage ;  that  is  to  say,  upon  that  precise  mode  of  cultivation  which, 
as  hath  been  shown  above,  it  is  the  business  of  the  state  to  re- 
lieve and  remunerate  in  preference  to  every  other.  No  measure 
of  such  extensive  concern  appears  to  me  so  practicable,  nor  any 
single  alteration  so  beneficial,  as  the  conversion  of  tithes  into 
corn  rents.  This  commutation,  I  am  convinced,  might  be  so  ad- 
justed, as  to  secure  to  the  tithe-holder  a  complete  and  perpetual 
equivalent  for  his  interest,  and  to  leave  to  industry  its  full  ope- 
ration and  entire  reward. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

OF  WAR,  AND  OF  MILITARY  ESTABLISHMENTS. 

BECAUSE  the  Christian  scriptures  describe  wars  as  what  they 
are, — as  crimes  or  judgments,  some  have  been  led  to  believe 
that  it  is  unlawful  for  a  Christian  to  bear  arms.  But  it  should 
he  remembered,  that  it  may  be  necessary  for  individuals  to  unite 
their  force,  and  for  this  end  to  resign  themselves  to  the  direction 
of  a  common  will  ;  and  yet  it  may  be  true  that  that  will  is  often 
actuated  by  criminal  motives,  and  often  determined  to  destruc- 
tive purposes.  Hence,  although  the  origin  of  wars  be  ascribed, 
in  Scripture,  to  the  operation  of  lawless  and  malignant  passions  ;* 
and  though  war  itself  be  enumerated  among  the  sorest  calamities 
with  which  a  land  can  be  visited,  the  profession  of  a  soldier  h 

■*  James,  iv.  1 . 


450  OF  WAR,  AND  OF 

no  where  forbidden  or  condemned.  When  the  soldiers  demanded 
of  John  tlie  Baptist,  And  what  shall  we  do  ?  he  said  unto  tlicm, 
"  Do  violence  to  no  man,  neither  accuse  any  falsely,  and  be  con- 
"  tent  with  your  wages."!  In  which  answer  we  do  not  find,  that 
in  order  to  prepare  themselves  for  the  reception  of  the  kingdom 
of  God,  it  was  required  of  soldiers  to  relinquish  their  profession, 
but  only  that  they  should  beware  of  the  vices  of  which  that  pro- 
fession, it  may  be  presumed,  was  justly  accused.  The  precept, 
•*  Be  content  with  3  our  wages,"  supposed  them  to  continue  in 
their  situation.  It  was  of  a  Roman  centurion  that  Christ  pro- 
nounced that  memorable  eulogy,  "I  have  not  found  so  great 
"  faith,  no,  not  in  Israel. "|  The  first  Gentile  convert§  who  was 
received  into  the  Christian  church,  and  to  whom  the  Gojpel  was 
imparted  by  tbe  immediate  and  especial  direction  of  Heaven, 
held  the  same  station  ;  and  in  the  history  of  this  transaction,  we 
discover  not  the  smallest  intimation  that  Cornelius,  upon  becom- 
ing a  Christian,  quitted  the  service  of  the  Roman  legion  ;  that 
bis  profession  was  objected  to,  or  his  continuance  in  it  consider- 
ed as  in  any  wise  inconsistent  with  his  new  character. 

In  applying  the  principles  of  morality  to  the  affairs  of  nations, 
the  difficulty  which  meets  us  arises  from  hence,  "  that  the  par- 
"  ticular  consecjuence  sninetimes  appears  to  exceed  the  value  of 
"  the  general  rule."  In  this  circumstance  is  founded  the  only 
distinction  that  exists  between  the  case  of  independent  stales, 
and  of  independent  individuals.  In  the  transactions  of  private 
persons,  no  advantage  that  results  from  the  breach  of  a  general 
law  of  justice,  can  compensate  to  the  public  for  the  violation  of 
llie  law  ;  in  the  concerns  of  empire,  this  may  sometimes  be 
doubted.  Thus,  that  the  faith  of  promises  ought  to  be  main- 
tained, as  far  as  is  lawful,  and  as  far  as  was  intended  by  the  par- 
ties, whatever  inconveniency  cither  of  them  may  suffer  by  his 
fidelity,  in  the  intercourse  of  private  life,  is  seldom  disputed  ; 
because  it  is  evident  to  almost  every  man  who  refiects  upon  tlu- 

t  Luke,  iii.  M.  1  Luke,  vii.  P.  5  Ao(s,  x.  1. 


MILITARY  ESTABLISHMENTS.  451 

subject,  that  the  common  happiness  gains  more  by  the  preserva- 
tion of  the  rule,  than  it  could  do  by  the  removal  of  the  inconve- 
niency.  But  when  the  adherence  to  a  public  treaty  would  en- 
slave a  whole  people  ;  would  block  up  seas,  rivers,  or  harbours  ; 
depopulate  cities  ;  condemn  fertile  regions  to  eternal  desolation  ; 
cut  off  a  country  from  its  sources  of  provision,  or  deprive  it  of 
those  commercial  advantages  to  which  its  climate,  produce,  or 
situation  naturally  entitle  it  ;  the  magnitude  of  the  particular 
evil  induces  us  to  call  in  question  the  obligation  of  the  general 
rule.  Moral  Philosophy  furnishes  no  precise  solution  to  these 
doubts.  She  cannot  pronounce  that  any  rule  of  morality  is  so 
rigid  as  to  bend  to  no  exceptions  :  nor,  on  the  other  hand,  can 
she  comprise  these  exceptions  within  any  previous  description. 
She  confesses  that  the  obligation  of  every  law  depends  upon  its 
ultimate  utility  ;  that  this  utility  having  a  finite  and  determinate 
value,  situations  may  be  feigned,  and  consequently  may  possibly 
arise,  in  which  the  general  tendency  is  outweighed  by  the  enor- 
mity of  the  particular  mischief :  but  she  recalls,  at  the  same 
time,  to  the  consideration  of  the  inquirer,  the  almost  inestima- 
ble importance,  as  of  other  general  rules  of  relative  justice, 
so  especially  of  national  and  personal  fidelity  ;  the  unseen,  if 
not  unbounded  extent  of  the  mischief  which  must  follow  from  the 
want  of  it  ;  the  danger  of  leaving  it  to  the  sufferer  to  decide  up- 
on the  comparison  of  particular  and  general  consequences  ;  and 
the  still  greater  danger  of  such  decisions  being  drawn  into  future 
precedents.  If  treaties,  for  instance,  be  no  longer  binding  than 
whilst  they  are  convenient,  or  until  the  inconveniency  ascend  to 
a  certain  point,  which  point  must  be  fixed  by  the  judgment,  or 
rather  by  the  feelings  of  the  complaining  party  ;  or  if  such  aa 
opinion,  after  being  authorized  by  a  few  exami)les,  come  at 
length  to  prevail  ;  one  and  almost  the  only  method  of  averting 
or  closing  the  calamities  of  war,  of  either  preventing  or  putting 
a  stop  to  the  destruction  of  mankind,  is  lost  to  the  world  forever. 
We  do  not  say  that  no  evil  can  exceed  this,  nor  any  possible 
advantage  compensate  it  ;,  hut  we  say,  that  a  loss  which  affects 


452  OF  WAR,  AND  OF 

all,  will  scarcely  be  made  up  to  the  common  stock  of  human 
happiness  by  any  benefit  that  can  be  procured  to  a  single  nation, 
which,  however  respectable  when  compared  with  any  other  sin- 
gle nation,  bears  an  inconsiderable  proportion  to  the  whole. 
These,  however,  are  the  principles  upon  which  the  calculation 
is  to  be  formed.  It  is  enough,  in  this  place,  to  remark  the  cause 
which  produces  the  hesitation  that  we  sometimes  feel,  in  apply- 
ing rules  of  personal  probity  to  the  conduct  of  nations. 

As  between  individuals  it  is  found  impossible  to  ascertain  eve- 
ry duty  by  an  immediate  reference  to  public  utility,  not  only 
because  such  reference  is  oftentime?  too  remote  or  obscure  for 
the  direction  of  private  consciences,  but  because  a  multitude  of 
cases  arise,  in  which  it  is  indifferent  to  the  general  interest  by 
what  rule  men  act,  though  it  be  absolutely  necessary  that  they 
act  by  some  constant  and  known  rule  or  other  ;  and  as  for  these 
reasons  certain  positive  constitutions  are  wont  to  be  established 
in  every  society,  which,  when  established,  become  as  obligato- 
ry as  the  original  principles  of  natural  justice  themselves  ;  so, 
likewise,  it  is  between  independent  communities.  Together  with 
those  maxims  of  universal  equity  which  are  common  to  stales 
and  to  individuals,  and  by  which  the  rights  and  conduct  of  the 
one,  as  well  as  of  the  other,  ought  to  be  adjusted,  when  they 
fall  within  the  scope  and  application  of  such  maxims  ;  there  ex- 
ists also  amongst  sovereigns  a  system  of  artificial  jurisprudence, 
under  the  name  of  the  lam  of  nations.  In  this  code  are  found 
Ikte  rules  which  determine  the  right  to  vacant  or  newly  discover- 
ered  countries  ;  those  which  relate  to  the  protection  of  fugitives, 
the  privileges  of  ambassadors,  the  condition  and  duties  of  neu- 
trality, the  immunities  of  neutral  ships,  ports,  and  coasts,  the 
distance  from  shore  to  which  these  immunities  extend,  the  dis- 
tinction between  free  and  contraband  goods,  and  a  variety  of  sub- 
jects of  the  same  kind.  Concerning  which  examples,  and  in- 
deed the  principal  part  of  what  is  called  tbe/MS  gentium,  it  may 
be  observed,  that  the  rules  derive  their  moral  force  (by  which  I 
mean  the  regard  that  ought  to  be  paid  to  them  by  the  conscien- 


MILITARY  ESTABLISHMENTS.  45S 

ces  of  sovereigns,)  not  from  their  internal  reasonableness  or  jus- 
tice, for  many  of  them  are  perfectly  arbitrary  ;  nor  yet  from  the 
authority  by  which  they  were  established,  for  the  greater  part 
have  grown  insensibly  into  usage,  without  any  public  compact, 
formal  acknowledgment,  or  even  known  original  ;  but  simply 
from  the  fact  of  their  being  established,  and  the  general  duty 
of  conforming  to  established  rules  upon  questions,  and  be- 
tween parties,  where  nothing  but  positive  regulations  can  pre- 
vent disputes,  and  where  disputes  are  followed  by  such  destruc- 
tive consequences.  The  first  of  the  instances  which  we  have 
just  now  enumerated,  may  be  selected  for  the  illustration  of  this 
remark.  The  nations  of  Europe  consider  the  sovereignty  of 
newly  discovered  countries  as  belonging  to  the  prince  or  state 
whose  subject  makes  the  discovery  ;  and  in  pursuance  of  this 
rule,  it  is  usual  for  a  navigator,  who  falls  upon  an  unknown  shore, 
to  take  possession  of  it,  in  the  name  of  his  sovereign  at  home,  by 
erecting  his  standard,  or  displaying  his  flag  upon  a  desert  coast. 
Now,  nothing  can  be  more  fanciful,  or  less  substantiated  hy  any 
considerations  of  reason  or  justice,  than  the  right  which  such  dis- 
covery, or  the  transient  occupation  and  idle  ceremony  that  ac- 
company it,  confer  upon  the  country  of  the  discoverer.  Nor  can 
any  stipulation  be  produced,  by  which  the  rest  of  the  world 
have  bound  themselves  to  submit  to  this  pretension.  Yet  when 
we  reflect  that  the  claims  to  newly  discovered  countries  can  hard- 
ly be  settled,  between  the  different  nations  that  frequent  them, 
without  some  positive  rule  or  other  ;  that  such  claims,  if  left  un- 
settled, would  prove  sources  of  ruinous  and  fatal  contentions  ; 
that  the  rule  already  proposed,  however  arbitrary,  possesses  one 
principal  quality  of  a  rule, — determination  and  certainty  ;  above 
all,  that  it  is  acquiesced  in,  and  that  no  one  has  power  to  substi- 
tute another,  however  he  might  contrive  a  better,  in  its  place  : 
when  we  reflect  upon  these  properties  of  the  rule,  or  rather  upon 
these  consequences  of  rejecting  its  authority,  we  are  led  to  as- 
cribe to  it  the  virtue  and  obligation  of  a  precept  of  natural  jus- 
tice, because  we   perceive  in  it  that  which  is  the  foundation  of 


^54  OF  WAR,  ANJJ  OK 

juslke  itself, — public  importance  and  utility.  And  a  piii;ce  who 
should  dispute  this  rule,  for  the  want  of  regularity  in  its  forma- 
tion, or  of  intelligible  justice  in  its  principle,  and  by  such  dis- 
putes should  disturb  the  tranquillity  of  nations,  and  at  the  same 
time  by  the  foundation  of  future  disturbances,  would  be  little 
less  criminal  than  he  who  breaks  the  public  peace  by  a  violation 
of  engagements  to  which  he  had  himself  consented,  or  by  an  at- 
tack upon  those  national  rights  which  are  founded  immediately 
in  the  law  of  nature,  and  in  the  first  perceptions  of  equity.  The 
same  thing  may  be  repeated  of  the  rules  which  the  law  of  na- 
tions prescribes  in  the  other  instances  that  were  mentioned,  name- 
ly, that  the  obscurity  of  their  origin,  or  the  arbitrariness  of  their 
principle,  subtracts  nothing  from  the  respect  that  is  due  to  them, 
when  once  established. 

War  may  be  considered  with  a  view  to  its  cavses  and  to  its  con- 
duct. 

The  jnstifyiug  csiuses  oi  war  are,  deliberate  invasions  of  right, 
and  the  necessity  of  maintaining  such  a  balance  of  power  amongst 
neighbouring  nations,  as  that  no  single  state,  or  confederacy  of 
states,  be  strong  enough  to  overwhelm  the  rest.  The  objects  of 
just  war  are,  precaution,  defence  or  reparation.  In  a  larger 
sense,  every  just  war  is  a  defensive  war,  inasmuch  as  every  just, 
war  supposes  an  injury  per[)etrated,  attempted,  or  feared. 

The  insujjicient  causes,  or  unjustifiable  motives  of  war,  are  the 
family  alliances,  the  personal  friendslii[)s,  or  the  personal  quar- 
rels of  princes  ;  the  internal  disi)utes  which  are  carried  on  in 
other  nations  ;  the  justice  of  other  wars,  the  extension  of  terri- 
tory, or  of  trade  ;  the  misfortunes  or  accidental  weakness  of  a 
neighbouring  or  rival  nation. 

There  are  two  lessons  of  rational  and  sober  policy,  which,  if 
it  were  possible  to  inculcate  into  the  councils  of  princes,  would 
exclude  many  of  the  motives  of  war,  and  allay  that  restless  am- 
bition which  is  constantly  stirring  up  one  part  of  mankind  against 
another.  The  first  of  these  lessons  admonishes  princes  to  "  place 
"  their  glory  and  their  emulation,  not  in  extent  of  territory,  but 


MILITARY  ESTABLISHMENTS.  455 

"  in  raising  tlie  greatest  quantity  of  happiness  out  of  a  given 
"  territory."  The  enlargement  of  territory  by  conquest  is  not 
only  not  a  just  object  of  war,  but,  in  the  greater  part  of  the  in- 
stances in  which  it  is  attempted,  not  even  desirable.  It  is  cer- 
tainly not  desirable  where  it  adds  nothing  to  the  numbers,  the 
enjoyments,  or  the  security  of  the  conquerors.  What  commonly 
is  gained  to  a  nation,  by  the  annexing  of  new  dependencies,  or 
the  subjugation  of  other  countries  to  its  dominion,  but  a  wider 
frontier  to  defend  ;  more  interfering  claims  to  vindicate  ;  more 
quarrels,  more  enemies,  more  rebellions  to  encounter  ;  a  greater 
force  to  keep  up  by  sea  and  land  ;  more  services  to  provide 
for,  and  more  establishments  to  pay  ?  And,  in  order  to  draw 
from  these  acquisitions  something  that  may  make  up  for  the 
charge  of  keeping  them,  a  revenue  is  to  be  extorted,  or  a  monop- 
oly to  be  enforced  and  watched,  at  an  expense  which  costs  half 
their  produce.  Thus  the  provinces  are  oppressed,  in  order  to 
pay  for  being  ill  governed  ;  and  the  original  state  is  exhausted 
in  maintaining  a  feeble  authority  over  discontented  subjects. 
No  assignable  portion  of  country  is  benefited  by  the  change  ;  and 
if  the  sovereign  appear  to  himself  to  be  enriched  or  strengthen- 
ed, when  every  part  of  his  dominion  is  made  poorer  and  weaker 
than  it  was,  it  is  probable  that  he  is  deceived  by  appearances. 
Or  were  it  true  that  the  grandeur  of  the  prince  is  magnified  by 
those  exploits  ;  the  glory  which  is  purchased,  and  the  ambition 
which  is  gratified,  by  the  distress  of  one  country  without  adding 
to  the  happiness  of  another,  which  at  the  same  time  enslaves  the 
new  and  impoverishes  the  ancient  part  of  the  empire,  by  what- 
ever names  it  may  be  known  or  flattered,  is  an  object  of  univer- 
sal execration  ;  and  not  more  so  to  the  vanquished,  than  it  is  of- 
tentimes to  the  very  people  whose  armies  or  whose  treasures  have 
achieved  the  victory. 

There  are,  indeed,  two  cases  in  which  the  extension  of  terri- 
tory may  be  of  real  advantage,   and  to  both  parties.     The  first 
is,  where  an  empire   thereby  reaches  to  the  natural  boundaries 
which  divide  it  from  the  rest  of  the  world.     Thus  we  account 
69 


400  OF  WAR,  AND  OF 

the  British  ChanneJ  the  natural  boundary  which  separates  ihc 
nations  of  England  and  France  ;  and  if  France  possessed  any 
countries  on  this,  or  England  any  cities  or  provinces  on  that  side 
of  the  sea,  the  recovery  of  such  towns  and  districts  to  what  may 
be  called  their  natural  sovereign,  though  it  might  not  be  a  just 
reason  for  commencing  war,  would  be  a  proper  use  to  make  of 
victory.  The  other  case  is,  where  neighbouring  states,  being 
severally  too  small  and  weak  to  defend  themselves  against  the 
dangers  that  surround  them,  can  enly  be  safe  by  a  strict  and 
constant  junction  of  their  strength  :  here  conquest  will  effect  the 
purposes  of  confederation  and  alliance  ;  and  the  union  which  it 
produces  is  often  more  close  and  permanent  than  that  which  re- 
sults from  voluntary  association.  Thus  if  the  heptarchy  had 
continued  in  England,  the  different  kingdoms  of  it  might  have 
separately  fallen  a  prey  to  foreign  invasion  ;  and  although  the 
interest  and  danger  of  one  part  of  the  island  was  in  truth  com- 
mon to  every  other  part,  it  might  have  been  difficult  to  have  cir- 
culated this  persuasion  amongst  independent  nations,  or  to  have 
nnilcd  them  in  any  regular  or  steady  opposition  to  their  conti- 
nental enemies,  had  not  the  valour  and  fortune  of  an  enterpris- 
ing prince  incorporated  the  whole  into  a  single  monarchy. 
Here  the  conquered  gain  as  much  by  the  revolution  as  the  con- 
querors. In  like  manner  and  for  the  same  reason,  when  the  two 
royal  families  of  Spain  were  met  together  in  one  race  of  princes, 
and  the  several  provinces  of  France  had  devolved  into  the  pos- 
session of  a  single  sovereign,  it  became  unsafe  for  the  inhabitants 
of  Great  Britain  any  longer  to  remain  under  separate  govern- 
ments. The  union  of  England  and  Scotland,  which  transformed 
two  quarrelsome  neighbours  into  one  powerful  empire,  and  which 
■was  first  brought  about  by  the  course  of  succession,  and  after- 
wards completed  by  amicable  convention,  would  have  been  a 
fortunate  conclusion  of  hostilities,  had  it  been  efi'ected  by  the  op- 
erations of  war.  These  two  cases  being  admitted,  namely,  the 
obtaining  of  natural  boundaries,  and  barriers,  and  the  including 
under  the  same  government  those  who  have  a  common  daniier 


MILITARY  ESTABLISHMENTS.  451 

mid  a  common  enemy  to  guard  against,  I  know  not  whether  a 
third  can  be  thought  of,  in  which  the  extension  of  empire  by  con- 
quest is  useful  even  to  the  conquerors. 

The  second  rule  of  prudence  which  ought  lo  be  recommended 
to  those  who  conduct  the  affairs  of  nations,  is,  '•  never  to  pursue 
"  national  honour  as  distinct  from  national  interest."     This  rule 
acknowledges,  that  it  is  often  necessary  to  assert  the  honour  of 
a  nation  for  the  sake  of  its  interest.     The   spirit  and  courage  of 
a  people  are  supported  by  flattering  their  pride.     Concessions 
which  betray  too  much  of  fear  or  weakness,   though  they  relate 
to  points  of  mere  ceremony,  invite  demands  and  attacks  of  more 
serious  importance.     Our  rule  allows  all  this  ;  and  directs  only, 
that  when  points  of  honour  become  subjects  of  contention  between 
sovereigns,  or  are  likely  to  be  made  the  occasions  of  war,   they 
be  estimated  with  a  reference  to  utility,   and  not  by  tkeinselves. 
"  The  dignity  of  bis  crown,  the  honour  of  his  flag,  the  glory  of 
"  his  arms,"  in  the  mouth  of  a  prince,  are  stately  and  imposing 
terms  ;  but  the  ideas  they  inspire  are  insatiable.     It  may  be  al- 
v/ays  glorious  to  conquer  whatever  be  the  justice  of  the  war,  or 
the  price  of  the  victory.     The  dignity  of  a  sovereign  may  not 
permit  him  to  recede  from  claims  joI  homage  and  respect,  at 
whatever  expense  of  national  peace  and  happiness  they  are  to  be 
maintained,  however  unjust  they  may  have  been  in  their  origin- 
al, or  in  their  continuance  however  useless  to  the  possessor,  or 
mortifying  and  vexatious  to  other  states.     The  pursuit  of  honour, 
when  let  loose  from  the  admonitions  of  prudence,  becomes  in 
kings  a  wild  and  romantic  passion  :  eager  to  engage,  and  gather- 
ing fury  in  its  progress,  it  is  checked  by  no  difficulties,  repelled 
by  no  dangers  ;  it  forget<-j  or  despises   those  considerations  of 
safety,  ease,  wealth,  and  plenty,  which,  in  the  eye  of  true  pub- 
lic wisdom,  compose  the  objects  to  which  the  renown  of  arms, 
the  fame  of  victory,  are  only  instrumental  and  subordinate.    The 
pursuit  of  interest,  on  the  other  hand,  is  a  sober  principle  ;  com- 
putes costs  and  consequences  ;  is  cautious  of  entering  into  war  ; 
5tops  in  time  :  when  regulated  by  those  universal  maxims  oi 


458  OF  WAR,  AND  OF 

relative  justice,  which  belong  to  the  affairs  of  communities  as 
well  as  of  private  persons,  it  is  the  right  principle  for  nations 
to  proceed  by  ;  even  when  it  trespasses  upon  these  regulations, 
it  is  much  less  dangerous,  because  much  more  temperate  than 
the  otlirr. 

n.  Tlie  conduct  of  war. — If  the  cause  and  end  of  war  be  Jus- 
tifiable, all  the  means  that  a])pear  necessary  to  the  end  are  justifia- 
ble also.  This  is  the  principle  which  defends  those  extremities  to 
which  the  violence  of  war  usually  proceeds  :  for  since  war  is  n 
contest  by  force  between  parties  who  acknowledge  no  common 
superior,  and  since  it  includes  not  in  its  idea  the  supposition  of 
any  convention  which  should  place  limits  to  the  operation  of  force, 
it  has  naturally  no  boundary  but  that  in  which  force  terminates, 
— the  destruction  of  the  life  against  which  the  force  is  directed. 
Let  it  be  observed,  however,  that  the  licence  of  war  authorizes 
no  acts  of  hostilitj'  but  what  are  necessary  or  conducive  to  the 
end  and  object  of  the  war.  Gratuitous  barbarities  bon-ow  no  ex- 
cuse from  this  ])Iea  :  of  which  kind  is  every  cruelty  and  every 
insult  that  serves  only  to  exasperate  the  bufferings  or  to  incense 
the  hatred  of  an  enemy,  without  weakening  his  strength,  or  in 
any  manner  tending  to  procure  his  submission  ;  such  as  the 
slaughter  of  captives,  the  subjecting  them  to  indignities  or  tor- 
ture, the  violation  of  women,  the  profanation  of  temples,  the  de- 
molition of  public  buildings,  libraries,  statues,  and  in  general  the 
destruction  or  defacing  of  works  that  conduce  nothing  to  anno}-- 
ance  or  defence.  These  enormities  are  prohibited  not  only  by 
the  practice  of  civilized  nations,  but  by  the  law  of  nature  itself  : 
as  having  no  proper  tendency  to  accelerate  the  termination,  or 
accomplish  the  object  of  the  war  ;  and  as  containing  that  which 
in  peace  and  war  is  equally  unjustifiable, — ultimate  and  gratui- 
tious  mischief. 

There  are  other  restrictions  imposed  upon  the  conduct  of  war, 
not  i)y  the  law  of  nature  primarily,  but  by  the  laxa^s  of  n'ar  first, 
and  by  the  law  of  nature  as  seconding  and  ratifying  the  laws  of 
war.     The  laws  of  war  are  part  of  the  law  of  n?tionn  ;  and  fmuHl- 


MILITAP.Y  ESTABLISHMENTS.  459 

e:l,  as  to  their  aulLority,  upon  the  same  principle  with  the  rest 
of  that  code,  namely,  upon  the  fact  of  their  being  established,  no 
matter  when  or  by  whom  ;  upon  the  expectation  of  their  l)eing 
mutually  observed,  in  consequence  of  that  establishment  ;  and 
upon  the  general  utility  which  results  from  such  observance. 
The  binding  force  of  these  rules  is  the  greater,  because  the  re- 
gard that  is  paid  to  thcra  must  be  universal  or  none.  The  breach 
of  the  rule  can  only  be  punished  by  the  subversion  of  the  rule 
itself:  on  which  account  the  whole  mischief  that  ensues  from  the 
loss  of  those  salutary  restrictions  which  such  rules  prescribe,  is 
justly  chargeable  upon  the  first  aggressor.  To  this  consideration 
may  be  referred  the  duty  of  refraining  in  war  from  jioison  and 
from  assassination.  If  the  law  of  nature  simply  be  consulted, 
it  may  be  difficult  to  distingm'sh  between  these  and  other  meth- 
ods of  destruction,  which  are  practised  without  scruple  by  na- 
tions at  war.  If  it  be  lawful  to  kill  an  enemy  at  all,  it  seems 
lawful  to  do  so  by  one  mode  of  deatli  as  well  as  by  another  ;  by 
a  dose  of  poison,  as  by  the  point  of  a  sword  ;  by  the  hand  of  an 
assassin,  as  by  the  attack  of  an  army  :  for  if  it  be  said  that  one 
species  of  assault  leaves  to  an  enemy  the  power  of  defending 
himself  against  it,  and  that  the  other  does  not  ;  it  may  be  an- 
swered, that  we  possess  at  least  the  same  right  to  cut  off  an  en- 
emy's defence,  that  we  have  to  seek  his  destruction.  « In  this 
manner  might  the  question  be  debated,  if  there  existed  no  rule 
or  law  of  war  upon  the  subject.  But  when  we  observe  that  such 
practises  are  at  present  excluded  by  the  usage  and  opinions  of 
civilized  nations  :  that  the  first  recourse  to  them  would  be  fol- 
lowed by  instant  retaliation  ;  that  the  mutual  licence  whicli  such 
attempts  must  introduce,  would  fill  both  sides  v/ith  the  misery 
of  continual  dread  and  suspicion,  without  adding  to  (he  strength 
or  success  of  either  ;  that  when  the  example  came  to  be  more 
generally  imitated,  which  it  soon  would  be,  after  the  sentiment 
that  condemns  it  had  been  once  broken  in  upon,  it  would  greatly 
aggravate  the  horrors  and  calamities  of  war,  yet  procure  no  su- 
periority to  any  of  the  nations  engaged   in  it  :   when  we  vieu 


4'6U  OK  WAR,  AND  OF 

these  effects,  ive  join  in  the  public  reprobation  of  such  lalal  es- 
pedieuts,  as  of  the  admission  amongst  mankind  of  new  and  enor- 
mous evils  without  necessity  or  advantage.  The  law  of  nature, 
we  see  at  length,  forl;ids  these  innovations,  as  so  many  trans- 
gressions of  a  beireficial  general  rule  actually  subsisting. 

The  licence  of  war  then  acknowledges  two  limitations  :  it  au- 
thorizes no  hostilities  which  have  not  an  apparent  tendency  to 
•^flectuatc  the  object  of  the  war  ;  it  respects  those  positive  laws 
which  the  custom  of  nations  hath  sanctified,  and  which,  whilst 
they  are  mutually  conformed  to,  mitigate  the  calamities  of  war, 
without  weakening  its  operations,  or  diminishing  the  power  or 
safety  of  belligerent  states. 

Long  and  various  experience  seems  to  have  convinced  the  na- 
tions of  Europe,  that  notfiing  but  a  standing  army  can  oppose  a 
standing  army,  where  the  numbers  on  each  side  bear  an}*  mode- 
rat*  proportion  to  one  another.  The  first  standing  army  that  ap- 
])eared  in  Europe  after  the  fall  of  the  Roman  legion,  was  that 
which  was  erected  in  France  by  Charles  V^II.  about  the  middle 
of  the  fifteenth  centurj'  :  and  that  the  institution  hath  since  be- 
come general,  can  only  be  attributed  to  the  superiority  aud  suc- 
cess which  are  every  where  observed  to  attend  it.  The  truth 
is,  the  closeness,  regularity,  and  quickness  of  their  movements  ; 
the  unreserved,  instantaneous,  and  almost  mechanical  obedience 
to  orders  ;  the  sense  of  personal  honour,  and  the  familiarity  with 
danger,  which  belong  to  a  disciplined,  veteran,  and  embodied 
soldiery,  give  such  firmness  and  intrepidity  to  their  approach, 
such  weight  and  execution  to  their  attack,  as  are  not  to  be  with- 
stood by  loose  ranks  of  occasional  and  newly  levied  troops,  who 
are  liable  by  their  inexperience  to  disorder  and  confusion,  and 
in  whom  fear  is  constantly  augmented  by  novelty  and  surprise. 
It  is  possible  that  a  militia,  with  a  great  excess  of  numbers,  and 
■a  ready  supply  of  recruits,  may  sustain  a  defensive  or  a  flying 
war  against  regular  troops  ;  it  is  also  true,  that  any  service  which 
keeps  soldiers  for  a  while  together,  and  inures  them  by  little  and 
Uttlr'lo  the  habit«  of  war  and  the  dangers  of  action,  transformc 


iVTILITARY  ESTABLISHMENTS.  4G1 

them  in  effect  into  a  standing  army.  But  upon  this  plan  it  may 
"be  necessary  for  almost  a  whole  nation  to  go  out  to  war  to  repel 
an  invader  ;  beside  that,  a  people  so  unprepared  must  always 
have  the  seat,  and  with  it  the  miseries  of  war,  at  home,  being 
utterly  incapable  of  carrying  their  operations  into  a  foreign 
country. 

From  the  acknowledged  superiority  of  standing  armies,  it  fol- 
lows not  only  that  it  is  unsafe  for  a  nation  to  disband  its  regular 
troops,  whilst  neighbouring  kingdoms  retain  theirs,  but  also  that 
regular  troops  provide  for  the  public  service  at  the  least  possible 
expense.  I  suppose  a  certain  quantity  of  military  strength  to 
be  necessary,  and  I  say,  that  a  standing  army  costs  the  commu- 
nity less  than  any  another  establishment  which  presents  to  an 
enemy  the  same  force.  The  constant  drudgery  of  low  employ- 
ments is  not  only  incompatible  with  any  great  degree  of  perfec- 
tion or  expertness  in  the  profession  of  a  soldier,  but  the  profes- 
sion of  a  soldier  almost  always  unfits  men  for  the  business  of  reg- 
ular occupations.  Of  three  inhabitants  of  a  village,  it  is  better 
fhat  one  should  addict  himself  entirely  to  arms,  and  the  other 
two  stay  constantly  at  home  to  cultivate  the  ground,  than  that  all 
the  three  should  mix  the  avocations  of  a  camp  with  the  business 
^ of  husbandry.  By  the  former  arrangement,  the  country  gains 
one  complete  soldier,  and  two  industrious  husbandmen  :  from 
the  latter,  it  receives  three  raw  militia- men,  who  are  at  the  same 
time  three  idle  and  profligate  peasants.  It  should  be  consider- 
ed also,  that  the  emergencies  of  war  wait  not  for  seasons.  Where 
there  is  no  standii>g  army  ready  for  immediate  service,  it  may 
be  necessary  to  call  the  reaper  from  the  fields  in  harvest,  or  the 
ploughman  in  seed-time  ;  and  the  provision  of  a  whole  year  may 
perish  by  the  interruption  of  one  month's  labour.  A  standing 
army,  therefore,  is  not  only  a  more  effectual,  but  a  cheaper 
method  of  providing  for  the  public  safety  than  any  other,  because 
it  adds  more  than  any  other  to  the  common  strength,  and  takes 
less  from  that  which  composes  the  wealth  of  the  nation,- — its  stock 
of  productive  industry. 


OF  WAR,  AA'D  OF 

riicrc  is  yel  anollior  distinction  between  standing  ainiies  ami 
iniliti.is,  which  deserves  a  more  attentive  consideration  than  any 
tliat  has  been  mentioned.  When  the  state  relies  for  its  defence 
u|)on  a  militia,  it  is  necessary  that  arms  be  put  it)to  tlie  hands  of 
tlic  people  at  large.  The  militia  itself  must  be  numerous,  in 
proportion  to  the  want  or  inferiority  of  its  discipline,  and  the  im- 
becilities or  defects  of  its  constitution.  Moreover,  as  such  a  mi- 
litia must  be  supplied  by  rotation,  allotment,  or  some  mode  of 
succession,  whereby  they  who  have  served  a  certain  lime  are 
replaced  by  fresh  draughts  from  the  country,  a  much  greater 
number  Avill  be  instructed  in  the  use  of  arms,  and  will  have  been 
occasionally  embodied  together,  than  are  actually  employed,  or 
than  are  supposed  to  be  wanted  at  the  same  time.  Now,  what 
effects  upon  the  civil  condition  of  the  country  may  be  looked  for 
from  this  general  diffusion  of  the  military  character,  becomes  an 
inquiry  of  great  importance  and  delicacy.  To  me  it  appears^ 
doubtful,  whether  any  government  can  be  long  secure,  where  the 
people  are  acquainted  with  the  use  of  arms,  and  accustomed  to 
resort  to  them.  Every  faction  will  find  itself  at  the  head  of  an 
army  ;  every  disgust  will  excite  commotion,  and  every  commo- 
tion become  a  civil  war.  Nothing,  perhaps,  can  govern  a  na- 
tion of  armed  citizens  but  that  which  governs  an  army — despot- 
ism. I  do  not  mean,  that  a  regular  government  would  become 
despotic  by  training  up  its  subjects  to  the  knowledge  and  exer- 
cise of  arms,  but  that  it  would  ere  long  be  forced  to  give  way  to 
despotism  in  some  other  shape  ;  and  that  the  country  would  be 
liable  to  what  is  even  worse  than  a  settled  and  constitutional  des- 
potism,— to  perpetual  rebellions,  and  to  perpetual  revolutions  ; 
to  short  and  violent  usurpations  ;  to  the  successive  tyranny  of 
governors,  rendered  cruel  and  jealous  by  the  danger  and  insta- 
bility of  their  situation. 

The  same  purposes  of  strength  and  efficacy  which  make  a 
blinding  army  necessary  at  all,  make  it  necessary,  in  mixed  go- 
vernments, that  this  army  be  submitted  to  the  management  and 
direction  of  the  prince  ;  for,  however  well  a  popular  council  inay 


MILITARY  ESTABLISHMENTS.  463 

be  qualified  for  the  offices  of  legislation,  it  is  altogether  unfit  for 
the  conduct  of  war  :  in  which  success  usually  depends  upon 
vigour  and  enterprise  ;  upon  secrecy,  despatch,  and  unanimity  ; 
upon  a  quick  perception  of  opportunities,  and  the  power  of  seiz- 
ing every  opportunity  immediately.  It  is  likewise  necessary 
that  the  obedience  of  an  army  be  as  prompt  and  active  as  possi- 
ble ;  for  which  reason  it  ought  to  be  made  an  obedience  of  will 
and  emulation.  Upon  this  consideration  is  founded  the  expedi- 
ency of  leaving  to  the  prince,  not  only  the  government  and  des- 
tination of  the  army,  but  the  appointment  and  promotion  of  its 
officers  :  because  a  design  is  then  alone  likely  to  be  executed 
with  zeal  and  fidelity,  when  the  person  who  issues  the  order, 
chooses  the  instruments,  and  rewai'ds  the  service.  To  which  we 
may  subjoin,  that,  in  governments  like  ours,  if  the  direction  and 
officering  of  the  army  were  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  democrat- 
ic part  of  the  constitution,  this  power,  added  to  what  they  al- 
ready possess,  would  so  overbalance  all  that  wbuld  be  left  of  re- 
gal prerogative,  that  little  would  remain  of  monarchy  in  the  con- 
stitution, but  the  name  and  expense  ;  nor  would  they  probably 
remain  long. 

Whilst  we  describe,  however,  the  advantages  of  standing  ar- 
mies, we  must  not  conceal  the  danger.  These  properties  of 
their  constitution, — the  soldiery  being  separated  in  a  great  de- 
gree from  the  rest  of  the  community,  their  being  closely  linked 
amongst  themselves  by  habits  of  society  and  of  subordination, 
and  the  dependency  of  the  whole  chain  upon  the  will  and  favour 
of  the  prince, — however  essential  they  may  be  to  the  purposes 
for  which  armies  are  kept  up,  give  them  an  aspect  in  no  wise 
favourable  to  public  liberty.  The  danger,  however,  is  dimin- 
ished by  maintaining  upon  all  occasions,  as  much  alliance  of  in- 
terest, and  as  much  intercourse  of  sentiment,  between  the  milita- 
ry part  of  the  nation  and  the  other  orders  of  the  people,  as  are 
consistent  with  the  union  and  discipline  of  an  army.  For  which 
purpose,  the  officers  of  the  army,  upon  whose  disposition  towards 
the  commonwealth  a  great  deal   may  depend,  should  be  takes 

eo 


462  OF  WAR,  &c. 

from  the  principal  families  of  the  country,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
also  be  encouraged  to  establish  in  it  families  of  their  own,  as 
well  as  be  admitted  to  seats  in  the  senate,  to  hereditary  distinc- 
tions, and  to  all  the  civil  honours  and  privileges  that  are  com- 
patible with  their  profession  :  which  circumstance  of  connexion 
and  situation  will  give  them  such  a  share  in  the  general  rights  of 
the  people,  and  so  engage  their  inclinations  on  the  side  of  public 
liberty,  as  to  afford  a  reasonable  security  that  they  cannot  be 
brought,  by  any  promises  of  personal  aggrandizement,  to  assist 
in  the  execution  of  measures  which  might  enslave  their  posterity, 
tlieir  kindred,  and  the  country. 


THE    END. 


E.  p.  WALTON,  PRINTER,  »IONTP£LIER,  VT. 


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